


Ship of Dreams

by Maiika



Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Human, Angst, F/M, I Will Go Down With This Ship, You've been warned, your favorite character may very likely die
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-07
Updated: 2018-12-14
Packaged: 2019-07-08 07:31:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 22
Words: 70,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15925763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maiika/pseuds/Maiika
Summary: One ocean liner.  Two-thousand passengers.  Seven-hundred survivors.A Titanic-inspired AU





	1. All Aboard

**Author's Note:**

> After rewatching Titanic for the first time since it first came out in the 90s, I was in awe. It instantly reminded me of why it was such a hit. If you haven’t seen it, WATCH IT. If you have, you’ll know what to expect from this AU - and you won’t. No one is the focal character here. Every tagged character/ship has their own story.

 

Everyone says it’s marvelous.  They’ve built it up to be the largest, most beautiful ship the world has ever seen.  Bulma steps out of her automobile, onto the creaking wooden deck, and inhales slowly.  She peers past the brim of her hat at the green iron wall littered by hundreds of small windows.  The massive structure blocks the entire pier’s view of the Atlantic beyond it. Bulma decides it isn’t as impressive as they say.  She’s been around fine places and materials all her life. Although she has never seen any ship of quite such unique architecture, Bulma is still underwhelmed.

 

“A rare beauty,” says her fiancé as he steps around the hood of the car to meet her.

 

“I suppose,” Bulma says with a sigh, knowing Zarbon is referring either to the ship or himself.

 

“What?” Zarbon says, tossing a loose strand of hair from his vivid green eyes.  “You don’t like it? You know, they say it’s unsinkable.”

 

Bulma shoots him a smile, unamused.  “Many people say many things, Zarbon.  Nothing is impossible.”

 

“Zarbon, I have our luggage,” interrupts the gravelly voice of Zarbon’s oversized traveling companion.

 

“Put it over there, Dodoria,” Zarbon snaps with a wave.  “Can’t you see I’m talking to my fiancé?”

 

“Bulma, dear!”  Her mother’s sing-song call prompts Bulma to inhale sharply.  “We’d better be boarding soon! Your father already has our tickets!  They say the state rooms inside are going to be  _splendid_.”

 

“Well of course they are, Mrs. Briefs,” Zarbon says, smiling as Bulma’s mother walks beside her.  “Our employer paid a pretty penny for our first class passage to America onboard the great Shenron’s maiden voyage.”

 

Dodoria chuckles, brushing past them.  “Lord Frieza  _only_ pays for the best.  I’ll unload your things and meet you onboard, Zarbon.”

 

“Thank you, Dodoria,” Zarbon says before turning to Bulma and offering his arm.  “Now my dear, shall we?”

 

Zarbon can be such a pompous man, but when he turns his green eyes on her, complimented by his high cheekbones and a handsome suit to frame his face, Bulma can’t help but smile.  Heat rushes to her cheeks as she loops her arm through his. She doesn’t like the way he talks about money. It matters far more to him than it should. Bulma suspects that in his eyes, it matters more than _her_ , his gorgeous fiancé.

 

“Ooh!” Her mother claps her gloved hands.  “I’m so excited!”

 

Bulma lets her eyes pan over the ship as she steps forward.  When she tries to find the top of the massive structure, she realizes she cannot see a bit of the deck from port.  With every step forward, more intricate details become clear to her eye, informing her that in spite of her initial impression, perhaps the Shenron will live up to its reputation as the ship of dreams.

* * *

 

“This is it,” Konkichi says.

 

Krillin peers over his cards at the three men around the table.  Two of these men aren’t his friends. The one who _is_  meets his gaze with a frown.  Krillin’s lip twitches as he tries not to wince.  He _told_ Goku about how important it is to keep a good poker face.  Krillin scratches his hat, the felt material itching his bald scalp underneath it.  Maybe there’s nothing to worry about. Krillin might be the only one who can tell exactly what kind of hand Goku has.  They’ve known each other since they were kids, after all. His best friend is an open book to him. With a sigh, Krillin meets and holds the gaze of the teen across from him, who decided it’s time to show their cards.  Goku throws his hand down first.

 

“Nothin’,” Konkichi says with a grin, looking like a sly fox.

 

Konkichi’s buddy slaps his cards on the table.

 

This time, Konkichi frowns.  “Nothin’.” Konkichi draws a breath and meets Krillin’s gaze.  “It’s down to you and me. Best hand gets the tickets.”

 

As Konkichi slowly places his set of cards on the table, Krillin nods.  “Best hand gets the tickets,” he murmurs as he eyes his cards before looking past them to see what Konkichi has.

 

An Ace of hearts, an Ace of diamonds, a Queen of spades, a two of spades, and a Queen of diamonds are splayed on the table.  Two good pairs. Biting his lip, Krillin eyes his hidden hand again. His stomach flips as he sets his full house on the table, his gaze panning the eyes of the threesome looking back at him.

 

“Krillin!” Goku exclaims, shooting to his feet.

 

“Son of a bitch!” cries Konkichi, who throws his hat to the ground.

 

Goku sweeps Krillin into his bulging biceps, squeezing the air out of Krillin’s lungs.  Krillin’s feet leave the ground.

 

“Hey, Goku,” Konkichi says, his voice tame.  “You’d better hurry up if you’re plannin’ on _using_  those tickets.  You wouldn’t want to end up having to _swim_  across those ice-cold waters to reach America.”

 

Krillin’s eyes bulge as he looks out the window.  The ship is where it’s supposed to be, still blocking his view of the water.  But as the ship’s horn blares, causing the floorboards of the bar to vibrate beneath his boots, Krillin realizes it’s time for the Shenron’s departure.  Goku is already reaching across the wooden table, vigorously scooping their winnings into his hat as he laughs. He’s thrilled. Krillin is thrilled. America.  He’s never been to America. Maybe he’ll be able to meet a nice American girl when they arrive in the states.

 

 _If_ they ever make it onto the ship.

 

“Goku!” Krillin says, “run!”

 

Konkichi and his friend laugh as Krillin and Goku clumsily make their way around crowded tables to the door.  “Have a safe voyage, pals! You lucky bastards!”

* * *

 

As the horns blare a second time, Kami Piccolo draws a deep breath, puffs out his chest, and squeezes his fingers around the steering wheel.  All his men in pristine, matching green uniforms around him are prepared to follow his every order. Everyone in the world is watching this grand ship, relying on him and his crew to get it safely to port in America.  Piccolo holds his head high as he makes his next decision leading this ship into its maiden voyage.

 

“Mr. Popo,” Piccolo calls to his first mate, “all ahead full.”

 

“Yes, Mr. Piccolo,” Mr. Popo says.

 

Piccolo peers past the bow of his ship to look over the endless stretch of water ahead.  The temperature on deck, where over 2,000 passengers wave their goodbyes to the people left behind on the parting mainland, is a comfortable seventy degrees Fahrenheit.  But Piccolo knows the water just below them is frigid. There will be icebergs ahead and nights of solid darkness in remote locations. Yet they have a state of the art engineering system newly designed by the ingenious Dr. Gero.  The famous architect, Mr. Dende, claims this ship to be his sturdiest and most attractive design. Piccolo and his crew only need keep their senses astute and perform to their best abilities at all times to make this journey a success.  Piccolo won't _consider_ failure.

* * *

 

Tien wipes his brow when the ringing alarm comes in from above.  All around him and Chiaotzu, pistons hiss and engines roar, the neverending drone hurting his ears.  There is an invisible cloak of steam around him which he can never remove down here. The machinery powering this ship is massive, like no boiler room before it has ever seen.  Tien grunts as he turns the hand wheel at his waist, thrusting all of his weight and strength into the effort. Smoke and steam rise from the boilers, wafting in his face and causing his eyes to burn.  The sweat pooling on his forehead trickles down his temple.

 

“Ahead full, huh?” Chiaotzu shouts over the roaring engine.

 

“Looks like we’re off and the captain’s pulling out all the stops!” Tien says as he reaches for a towel.  

 

He just barely snatches one from the laundry cart pushed by a passing crew member.  Tien blots the sweat from his brow and tosses the towel over his bare shoulder. After smiling at Chiaotzu, his short friend who amazingly manages to keep up with the quick pace down here, Tien catches a glimpse of the worker ringing the  _ahead full_  dial at the next boiler over.  He’s looking at Tien again.

 

Tien purses his lips as he places his hands back on the hand wheel.  That person makes Tien uneasy. He’s a scrawny man, his face hidden beneath his red newsboy cap, his skin covered from head to toe in this blazing heat where Tien prefers to work shirtless.  At one point, Tien swears he catches a blush on the man’s cheeks, but he knows the boy has to be flushed from the heat.

 

“He’s looking at you again,” Chiaotzu says.

 

Tien nods and hums, though he knows Chiaotzu won’t hear his hum over the sharp hiss of the piston a few feet away from them.  When he turns his mind back to the oven, to the order for full steam just come in, he smiles. The Shenron has really left port.  Tien has a hard job ahead of him but when they arrive, he’ll be in America, where he can start a new life.

* * *

 

The first thing Yamcha wonders after unpacking and exploring the tiny cabin which he’ll be sharing with up to three other men is, why couldn’t he have stolen a _first_ class ticket on this ship?  With a sigh, he bends down to the bottom bunk, letting Puar out of his coat for fresh air.  In first class, he’d be allowed to let his furry companion free to wander. But no, he’s in third class.  With the nobodies. He supposes it could be worse. He could’ve never made it on the Shenron in the first place.

 

Puar purrs in appreciation of the fresh air as he pads across the stark white mattress.  His curious eyes explore their new surroundings for the entire second it takes the see the whole place before losing interest and sinking into a curled position on the mattress.

 

“Yeah,” Yamcha says, putting his hands on his hips and looking out the tiny round port window.  “This is it, Puar. And then America.”

 

A bang makes him jump.

 

Yamcha whirls around to the sound of laughter.  A man makes his way through the door, squeezing his broad shoulders between the two sets of bunks.  He tosses a beat-up leather suitcase on the top mattress. Another man behind him stops laughing as his eyes follow the suitcase’s flight to the top bunk.

 

“Hey, you must be our cabin mate!” the taller man says with a smile, extending his hand to Yamcha.  “Son, Goku Son.”

 

Yamcha looks the man up and down and reluctantly offers his hand.  “Yamcha.”

 

“Goku,” the shorter man groans, “I wanted the top bunk!  You have a cat?”

 

Yamcha blinks, realizing the shorter man is speaking to him.  He winces when he realizes he should’ve kept Puar hidden from his cabin mates.  He shakes his head. There’s no way he could’ve kept Puar hidden here. He’s going to need to get on his new mates’ good sides if he doesn’t want anyone ratting on him to the crew.  A stowaway cat would be the least of his worries once officials discovered the origins of his ticket.

 

“Yeah,” Yamcha says with a laugh, “Yeah, this is Puar.”

 

“Hey, Puar,” Goku says before throwing his legs in the air and jumping gracefully onto the top bunk, which doesn’t appear to offer much cushion for his fall as the springs creak.

 

“I’m Krillin,” the shorter man says, offering his hand and eyeing his contented friend with displeasure.  “Nice to meet you.”

 

As Yamcha shakes Krillin’s hand, he decides he can either make this a very long journey or a very short journey.  He’ll try to get along with these guys and make the best of it. At least they don’t seem to mind Puar. None of them will have to spend the bulk of their time on the Shenron cooped up in this tiny room anyway.

* * *

 

He’s relieved when he steps out on the deck with Nappa.  The dank, dreary living of steerage passengers definitely isn't for Vegeta, Prince of Saiyan.  The deck is full of sunlight and splendor, luxuries he’s used to. The wood below his shoes shines like it has been polished for days in preparation for this journey.  Lifeboats line the decks, stacked in secured clusters so as not to obstruct the view of passengers wishing to lean over the gleaming green iron rails and peer out across the navy blue waters of the vast ocean.

 

The oversized man at his side draws his head back, snorts, and as Vegeta turns his eyes on him, projects a wad of mucus off the side of the ship.

 

Vegeta rolls his eyes.  “Laying it on a little thick, aren’t you, Nappa?”

 

Nappa lets out a guttural laugh.  “Literally. You should’ve felt the volume behind that one!”

 

Vegeta scoffs.  “I _saw_ it.”

 

“I have to admit,” Nappa says, “there really is _something_ to playing the part of an unrefined nobody.”

 

Vegeta hisses.  “Keep it down about that!  If anyone overhears you-“

 

“Prince Vegeta isn’t even on this ship,” Nappa says with a deep chuckle.  “No one would ever look for you in Raditz’s third class cabin.”

 

“Let’s hope you’re right,” Vegeta grumbles dubiously, crossing his arms and peering sidelong in both directions at the other people strolling on the deck.  “Frieza casts a wide net when he wants something. I wouldn’t be surprised if he put men on this boat to track me.”

 

Nappa gulps.  “But you  _need_ to make it to America, my Prince.  Frieza will have you ki-“

 

“I know what he’ll do!” Vegeta snaps.

 

His eyes begin to twitch.  Frieza is a monster, an earl bent on destroying Saiyan royalty because he’s threatened by how much better Saiyans are than him.  Assassinating the ruling line of the country he despises is a clever plan. It worked in regard to the rest of the royal family. But Vegeta refuses to go down like the rest of them.  From America, he can still rule his people.

 

“Vegeta!” Nappa hisses, his eyes narrowing as he looks past Vegeta.  “Does that man look familiar to you?”

 

Vegeta turns to see an older man in a suit and pink vest, a gold pocket watch hanging from his overblown belly.  There’s a group of first class women walking behind the fat man, but they appear to be a separate entity. Vegeta purses his lips, trying to place the pockmarked face looking _through_ Vegeta as if he’s not even here.  The shabby clothing is a better disguise than Vegeta gave Nappa credit for.  If that man _was_ looking for Prince Vegeta, he wouldn’t know he’s looking right at him.

 

“No,” Vegeta says while a handsome couple, walking arm in arm, approaches the fat man from an opening doorway.  “But I might know who _he_ is.”

 

Nappa follows Vegeta’s gaze to the man with long braided hair.  His eyes widen. “Zarbon. And Dodoria! That’s _Dodoria_.  Vegeta, they’re Lord Frieza’s right hand men!”

 

“Shit.  If they’re here, that means-“

 

“That means Lord Frieza knows you’re on the Shenron.”

 

Vegeta narrows his eyes.  “That woman. The older people coming up behind them,” he says as he watches the blue-haired girl on Zarbon’s arm and a couple chatting behind the young couple.  “I want to know everything about them. If this Zarbon and Dodoria try to pull something on me, Nappa, I want to have an Ace in my hand.”

 

“Right,” Nappa says.  “I’ll keep an eye on them.”

 

As the quartet of finely-dressed people turns off into a galley meant solely for the entertainment of first class passengers, Vegeta scowls.  He can’t follow them, given his current position. He doesn’t like being followed. He doesn’t know anything about those other people, but if they're important to one of Frieza’s men, they’re a target for him.  Hopefully, laying low will cross Vegeta over the sea with no problems. But if that doesn’t work, the pretty girl on Zarbon’s arm or her misfortunate older companions might be the key to him saving his own ass.

* * *

 

Bulma feels tense as she enters the dining room.  She doesn’t know what caused her discomfort, but she knows not to ignore her instincts.  As Zarbon’s fingers curl around hers, crushing her fingers together, she knows something bothers him.  He never discusses business matters with her, so she knows not to ask. Besides, it’s time for tea. The crowded table draws near.  This is no place for a personal discussion.

 

Tea has always been a time for sitting quiet and calm with the ladies.  So when Bulma reaches the table to be greeted by raucous laughter, she furrows her brows and stops short.  A large man sits at the table, smoking a cigar which hangs from his lips between a brown beard and mustache, his size so overwhelming that he takes the space of two seats.  _He's_  the source of the laughter.  

 

As he rubs circles over his broad belly with thick fingers, Bulma turns her attention to the young woman who holds his attention.  The back of her head of black curls done up in pins faces Bulma, the woman’s lithe shoulders shaking as she lets loose a peal of laughter with the large man.

 

Bulma’s mother touches her shoulder, breathing down Bulma’s neck, “That’s Mr. King.”

 

“They say he’s loaded,” her father adds from her other side jubilantly, “though not as rich as us, of course.”

 

“ _Coarse_ ,” Bulma muses as she watches the large man rest his elbows on the table and speak with crumbs flying from his lips.  “He certainly seems like a coarse man.”

 

“New money, I believe,” her mother says with a hum.  “Poor man seems to have lost his wife, too.”

 

“That’s not his wife?” Bulma says, pointing vaguely at the dark-haired woman.

 

“Heavens, no!” Her mother laughs, cupping a hand over her mouth.  “That’s his daughter, Chi-Chi! She’s about your age, I believe.”

 

At the table, the dark haired women rises along with her father, turning a brilliant smile on Bulma and extending a dainty hand.  “A few years younger actually, Miss Briefs. I hope you don’t mind me overhearing.”

 

“Not at all,” Bulma says without missing a beat, placing her gloved hand in Chi-Chi King’s.  “Always lovely to meet another fresh, feminine face among all these elders and gentlemen.”

 

Chi-Chi withdraws her hand, placing it in the other as her dark eyes light beneath her thick lashes.  “Certainly. It would be a long, lonely trip without a friend. I-I’m Chi-Chi, and this is my father, O-“

 

“Ox King!” the larger man exclaims, reaching forward.  “Hello, Briefs Family! It’s a pleasure to meet the inventors of...of...so many things!”

 

Bulma’s father chuckles and adjusts his glasses.  “Likewise, I’m sure.”

 

“Now,” Bulma’s mother says, directing herself to a seat.  “What variety of tea are we serving?”

 

“Oolong,” Chi-Chi says, reaching for the porcelain teapot before the steward can assist her.  “May I?”

 

“Yes, please.”

 

Bulma sits beside her mother, relieved to see Zarbon heading away from her to rejoin with Dodoria.  “Please pass the sugar,” she says.

 

Ox King stands, blowing gray swirls of smoke from his nostrils before he presses the butt of his cigar into his tea saucer.  “Now that Chi-Chi has some company, I’ll leave you ladies to it. I’ve been meaning to seek out an old friend of mine who should be onboard.”

 

“If you find him, Pa,” Chi-Chi says, pausing to sip her tea, “say hello to old Master Roshi for me.”

 

“Of course,” Ox King says, turning to leave.

 

Bulma reaches for her steaming saucer of tea and scoops a cube of sugar into it.  She stirs, watching the caramel colored liquid swirl in the porcelain cup. Today is the first day of a wondrous journey.  Everyone aboard this ship must feel fortunate. Whether they’re in first class, part of the crew, or down in steerage, all of them are sharing this trip aboard the greatly anticipated Shenron.

 

They’re along for an adventure.

  
  



	2. Awakening on a Dream

Chi-Chi’s eyes flutter open to rays of sunlight flooding her finely appointed state room.  She hears her father humming from the other room, likely dressing for the day. He always hums, as if every morning is the start of a wonderful day.  Chi-Chi sits up and stretches, deciding that today, he cannot be wrong. They are on the ship of dreams, crossing the beautiful Atlantic Ocean on a marvelous structure like Chi-Chi has never seen.

 

Her stateroom is trimmed by architectural features carved into the deep oak of her walls.  Her large round porthole is the source of sunlight through which she sees the sparkling horizon of the ocean meeting the clear blue sky.  Colorful paintings line her walls and a floor length mirror inhabits the corner of her dressing area. Chi-Chi kicks her feet over the side of the bed, sending a glare at the white corset hanging on her dressing table.  It’s time for her maid to come lace her corset until it squeezes her rib cage so she can hardly breathe, and then assist her into the wrappings of an elegant gown. But once she is dressed, she can wander and explore the parts of the Shenron she hasn’t yet seen.

 

She hopes this ship has wonderful surprises in store.

* * *

 

This feels like flying.  Overlooking the ocean, moving faster than humanly possible, Goku spreads his arms and drifts in the breeze.  It’s the best feeling ever. He feels like he’s right where he’s meant to be.

 

“Okay, my turn again,” Krillin says.

 

Goku closes his eyes, his bangs whipping against his face.  “Wait, Krillin.”

 

“Hey!” Krillin says, crunching his teeth into an apple as he butts his hip against Goku’s.  “This was my idea and  _ you’ve _ been up longer than I have.  When are you going to get down from there?”

 

“Oh, okay,” Goku says with a smile, opening his eyes to see Krillin glaring petulantly at him.

 

He steps off the railing of Shenron’s bow stem, letting Krillin come up in his place.  It was fun while it lasted, but as Goku watches Krillin sink his teeth into that red apple, finishing it off before tossing the core into the ocean, Goku decides he’s still hungry. Breakfast wasn’t satisfying enough.  The crew only serves small meals to third class passengers. He had seen what the first class passengers eat, over in the grand ballroom, while peeking into a window on the way up here. There’s plenty of delicious food, just going to waste.  He remembers most of the first class diners dismissing their plates with food still on them. Putting his hands in his pockets (finding one of his fingers sliding into a hole), Goku decides he wants to go back there. He can sneak in and out, escaping anyone’s notice.

 

“Hey, Krillin,” he says, rocking on his heels, “I’m going to grab somethin’ more to eat.”

 

As Goku turns to leave, he hears Krillin grunt.  Goku’s managed to tear his friend’s attention from his joy of flight, but not enough to warrant Krillin leaving the bow to question Goku further. Down below, there won’t be any more food to be had until at least noon.  Goku can’t wait that long. He licks his lips as he recalls the arrangement set out for the white-gloved waiters to serve in the dining room. His stomach churns with anticipation.

* * *

 

“Aren’t you finished with that, Darling?” Zarbon says.

 

Bulma pats her lips with her napkin, careful not to smear her lipstick as she meets Zarbon’s green eyes.  “I-“

 

“I can’t let you overeat now,” Zarbon says as Bulma glances at the disheveled remains of eggs on her plate and her untouched, tempting blueberry scone.  “Wouldn’t want my beautiful bride to lose her figure before the big day or she’ll have no business standing next to  _ me _ on that altar, will she?”

 

Bulma sinks her sharp teeth into her bottom lip.  She’s used to Zarbon’s arrogance and vanity, but this new habit of aiming his criticism at her is intolerable.  She is a  _ lady _ .  She does not deserve open criticism for all at their table to overhear.  The mere suggestion that she might outgrow her wedding gown with her average eating habits has her seeing red.  If no one else notices her embarrassment, Bulma might carry on as if nothing happened at the table. She could address this matter with him in private.  But all eyes are on her reddening face, between their wary glances at Zarbon’s conceited smile. 

 

Bulma throws down her napkin, shooting to her feet.  “How dare you!”

 

Zarbon’s eyes bulge.  “Bulma!”

 

Bulma pans her gaze across the stunned faces at the table, skipping over Zarbon.  “Mr. Dende, Mr. King, Chi-Chi, Mother, Father, if you’ll please excuse me, I’ll be at the buffet, refilling my plate with a  _ healthy _ amount of food.”

 

Nods and murmurs follow Bulma as she turns and rushes away, intent on reaching the buffet table before Zarbon can think to stop her.  She’ll show him! She pushes aside the waiter approaching her, needing to move fast to help herself. Working around her big dress and limited movement in her tight corset, Bulma hastily sweeps every available food item she can find into the plate she swiped from the waiter.  By the time she’s done loading it, it is heaping, a few items rolling off the edge when she turns. She spots a boy, about seventeen or eighteen years of age and dressed far too casually for the dining room, leering at her from the end of the buffet table. Bulma scoffs before shoving a quiche into her mouth.  She has a problem with one man already. She has no time to address that boy drooling over her.

 

“Bulma!” Zarbon springs in front of Bulma, his green eyes narrowed and upper lip trembling as he snatches the plate from her hands.  “Are you trying to make a fool of me?”

 

“Me?” Bulma balks, swiping at the plate Zarbon pulled out of her reach.  “Trying to make a fool of  _ you _ ?  Give me my food, Zarbon!  I swear,” she sneers, “I won’t let it go to my hips.”

 

“Now how can you possibly promise me that?  Hey!”

 

Zarbon turns, the plate seemingly sliding from his hand as it rotates with him.  Bulma raises her brows at the boy who’d been drooling earlier now holding the plate high over his head as Zarbon sends him a glare.

 

“Who let  _ you _ in here?” Zarbon says.

 

“Nobody,” the boy says with a grin, his dark eyes shimmering as they wander over the plate he lowers in front of his face.  “But  _ you _ don’t want to eat this and you won’t let  _ her _ eat it, so can I?”

 

Zarbon turns his eyes toward their recently abandoned table.  “Dodoria!”

 

“You’ll get out of here and back to where you belong,” Dodoria says as he hastens to Zarbon’s side, reaching for the boy.

 

“Fine,” the boy says cheerily, “but I can take the food, right?”

 

“Now, Bulma,” Zarbon says, dismissing the boy wrestling Dodoria’s crude hands off of him, “shall we head back to-“

 

“Hey!” The boy throws Dodoria off of him, crashing the big man into the buffet table.  “Knock it off!”

 

“Young man,” Dodoria growls, “do  _ not _ make a scene.  You’re trespassing and disturbing these fine people!”

 

Bulma gasps.  She knows that look shadowing Dodoria’s eyes.  He can be mean with business associates, but she’s never seen him direct that ferocity at a boy.  Dodoria lunges toward the young man, who doesn't move out of the way, or even flinch.

 

“Wait!” Bulma cries, throwing herself in front of the boy.  “Dodoria, don’t!”

 

“Move out of the way, Bulma,” Dodoria seethes, his eyes fixed on the boy behind her.  “I’m going to teach this fool a lesson for disrupting our meal.”

 

“You can’t do that,” Bulma says, her eyes darting between Dodoria and Zarbon’s rapt expressions.  “I invited him here.”

 

“You what?” Zarbon says.

 

“Huh?” says the boy behind her.

 

Bulma shushes him before answering Zarbon.  “Yes. We met upon departure yesterday and I nearly left my beautiful cameo mirror; you know the one, Zarbon, I forgot to pack in with the luggage.  It was on a bench on deck. He returned it to me. So I invited him to have a meal in the grand dining room.”

 

Dodoria furrows his brows.  “Why would you do that? He doesn’t need rewarding for  _ not  _ stealing.  He’s lucky I don’t have the master at arms arrest him for even touching a valuable so far out of his reach.”

 

“What’s his name?” Zarbon drawls, eyeing Bulma.

 

“Goku,” the boy says, saving Bulma the trouble of making something up, “Goku Son.”

 

“Right,” Bulma laughs, “Goku.  I’m just going to walk Mr. Son out to the deck now, before we draw anymore attention to us than we already have.”

 

Bulma looks past Zarbon, where the entire crowd they left at the table stares in their direction. Putting her hand on Goku’s broad shoulder, she turns to lead him to the exit.  He sinks his teeth into a piece of meat, eating it straight out of his hand as they pass through the double doors. Bulma raises a brow, put off by his uncouth mannerisms while admiring his handsome features.  Once she looks past the bulging cheeks and crumbs coating his wrinkled shirt, Bulma can see this boy is very attractive. When he swallows down the food and smiles at her, Bulma flushes. He’s even more handsome than Zarbon.

 

Goku thrusts a slab of ham in her face. “Want some?”

 

“No!” Bulma huffs, slapping his arm away from her.  “What is wrong with you? You don’t offer a lady food like that!”

 

She curls her hands into fists by her sides, baring her teeth as she seethes at the idiot.  She can’t believe she thought he was attractive. He’s uncouth and apparently dumb, too, because he continues to smile, not even acknowledging that he’s offended her.

 

He shrugs and takes a massive bite from the meat Bulma rejected.  “I dot iff woul be good to share, shince you helped...me out back there.  It seemed like you wanted some.”

 

Bulma crosses her arms and scowls.  “I was just trying to show my fiancé that he can’t order me around.”

 

“Fiancé?” Goku blinks.

 

“You know,” Bulma says, showing him the ring sparkling on her finger, “we’re engaged to be married.”

 

“Oh.  Sorry.”

 

“Sorry?  You’re _supposed_ to say ‘congratulations’.”

 

Goku pauses, halting a scone’s trajectory to his mouth.  “But you’re not happy about it.”

 

Bulma's jaw drops.  “Of course I am! Didn’t you get a good look at the ring?”

 

“Who cares about your stupid ring,” Goku says, sliding his cleaned plate on a high platform as he turns away.

 

Bulma growls, storming after him while trying to maintain a proper air around all the people on deck who can see them now.

 

“ _I_ care about my ring,” she says.  “I care about Zarbon!”

 

Goku turns, raising his brows.  He doesn’t seem swayed by Bulma’s words, but he drops the attitude, raising his hands in the air.  Bulma frowns. She’s not sure  _ she’s _ swayed by her words, either.

 

“Sorry, Sorry,” Goku says.  “Congratulations?”

 

“Thank you,” Bulma says with a sigh, smiling as she falls in step with Goku.  “So, tell me about yourself. I suppose you were...hungry, to make such a daring move as to enter the grand dining room on your own.”

 

Goku laughs, an easygoing laugh that makes the smile on Bulma’s face grow wider.  “Yeah. I’m always hungry. You have so much food in there! And people don’t let you finish it?  That makes no sense.”

 

Bulma snorts.  “Zarbon is too vain for his own good.  He’s concerned that I might gain weight.”

 

“You?  But you’re skinny.”

 

Bulma smiles.  “I’m a lot of other things, too.  Zarbon doesn’t realize how good he has it.”

 

“Why don’t you leave him?”

 

Bulma pauses, gasping.  “I couldn’t do that. I’m not getting any younger.  Do you know how many ugly men have requested my hand?  My parents are already calling me an old maid.” When Goku raises a curious brow at her, Bulma glares.  “I’m twenty-two.”

 

“Oh.  Okay.”

 

Bulma sighs.  “You shouldn’t come into the dining room like that again, Goku.  Dodoria is dangerous.”

 

“And Zarbon?”

 

“No!” Bulma laughs, waving a dismissive hand.  “He’s much too handsome to be a monster. He just...has unseemly friends.”

 

Goku scratches his head.  “Well, I’m not worried about those guys anyway.  Thanks for the food, Bulma!”

 

As Goku spins away from her, waving over his shoulder, Bulma gasps.  “That’s  _ Miss Briefs _ to you, Goku!”

 

She presses her hands to her hips, fuming as he leaves her alone on the deck.  Some gentleman  _ he _ is.  Still, as she recalls the way he confronted Dodoria, and the opportunity he lent her to bow out of her situation by being in the right place at the right time, she can’t help smiling.  Something about him leaves a good impression on her. She hopes to run into Goku again soon.

* * *

 

When Goku reaches them, Yamcha has a million questions.  His eyes dart to the lady turning away from Goku in a huff.  Yamcha recalls Krillin’s story about the great experience he and Goku had on the bow before Goku left Krillin behind to enter the first class dining area.  Yamcha can’t believe Goku would do something so brazen by himself. 

 

If he wanted to steal something, he should’ve asked Yamcha.  Not that Yamcha’s too sure he likes the guy enough to help him, but he  _ is _ the expert.  He wouldn’t have been caught, as Goku apparently had.  Then again, if that beautiful woman was the consequence for being caught, maybe Goku has the right idea.  She seemed almost friendly with Goku until the last minute of their conversation. Yamcha licks his lips as he looks after the blue-haired beauty, the frills of her red skirts now disappearing through the dining room doors.  He almost wishes to be in Goku’s shoes, being the one who talked to her, but then he remembers he would’ve faltered. He feels himself hyperventilating, just thinking about it. This is the point where, if Puar wasn’t tucked away below decks, his beloved cat would be purring and wrapping around his leg to soothe his pounding heart.

 

“Goku!” Krillin yells from beside Yamcha.  “How - how did you do that?”

 

“Do what?” Goku asks, licking his fingers before casting them a broad smile.

 

Krillin looks like he’s about to explode.  “You got out of there alive, not arrested, with food, and a cute, high class girl talking to you!  Who is she?”

 

As Krillin curls his fingers into Goku’s lapel and tugs his friend down to his eye level, Goku frowns.  “Bulma.”

 

“Bulma,” Yamcha repeats, his surroundings becoming a blur as he pictures her in vivid detail.

 

“You’ve got to introduce us!” Krillin says, shaking Goku.

 

“Why?”

 

“Goku,” Yamcha says, gulping down the tightness in his throat, “if you’re interested in her, I’ll back down.  I understand. But you’ve got to understand, it’s rare to get an introduction to a woman like that.”

 

Krillin sputters a laugh.  “Wait. You can’t expect anything serious to come out of this, Yamcha.  She’s rich. Girls like that don’t go for guys like us.”

 

“Besides,” Goku says, “she’s married.”

 

As Yamcha’s heart sinks, so does Krillin’s jaw.  “Married?” Krillin says.

 

“Yeah,” Goku says, turning and panning his gaze across the decks.  His eyes spark with recognition before he extends a finger in the direction from where he just came.  “See that guy with the fat man?”

 

“Goku,” Krillin hisses, his eyes darting apologetically to the sizable people passing them.

 

“That’s her fiancé.”

 

The man is dressed impeccably.  If he wasn’t male, Yamcha would almost consider him an exotic beauty with that long braided hair and his excellent posture with which he walks with his perfectly-curved nose raised in the air.

 

“Oh,” Krillin says, his face dropping, “really?  _ That _ figures.”

 

“Wait,” Yamcha says, “fiancé?  Goku, you said she was  _ married _ _!_ ”

 

Goku shrugs.  “What’s the difference?”

 

“The difference is,” Yamcha says, his excitement resurfacing as he clenches his fists, “she’s not married yet.  She’s still free to have some fun.”

 

“Right!” Krillin says, grinning from ear to ear as he punches Yamcha’s shoulder.

 

“Lapis,” a sultry voice drawls from just behind Yamcha, “is this how  _ all _ men behave when they don’t think women are around?”

 

Yamcha exchanges a wide-eyed look with Krillin before slowly turning around.  Behind him, there’s a dark-haired, slender teenager in a suit and hat, observing the sunlight reflecting off his pocket watch as he twists it to and fro.  He doesn’t seem to notice Yamcha and Krillin looking at him. Next to him stands a pretty girl, who looks at them with eyes as pale blue as the boy’s beside her, her blonde hair swept back with a few strands hanging in her eyes, her blue gown accented by ruffles and jewels.

 

“No, Lazuli.”  The man snaps his pocket watch closed before finally peering up to meet Yamcha’s gaze with an icy stare.  “This is how men with no class behave when they think no women are around.”

 

Yamcha’s jaw tenses, while from the corner of his eye, he notices Krillin getting notably flustered.  As Yamcha’s new friend whimpers and trembles with his gaze fixed on the girl, his other new friend steps forward to give Yamcha a questioning nudge.  Yamcha bats Goku’s hand off of him. If this rich boy means to confront them, Yamcha has to be ready. It appears they’ve offended his intended, and that’s a dangerous position to be in for a group of poor men.

 

The girl turns her gaze to Krillin and smirks.  “I think you’re lying.”

 

“M-me?” Krillin says.

 

The boy she called Lapis laughs.  “What makes you think I’m lying, dear sister?”

 

She shoots her brother a sideways glance.  “I’ve been around our father too long  _ not _ to recognize when a man is lying.  Besides, men are men, rich...or poor.”

 

Lapis puts his hands in the air, grinning as Yamcha meets his eyes.  “You caught me.”

 

As the girl huffs her victory, tucking a falling strand of hair behind her ear with a graceful gesture, Yamcha exhales.  He’s relieved. It appears his tension was for nothing. 

 

Goku strikes his hand out.  “Hi! I’m Goku. Are either of you friends with Bulma Briefs?”

 

“No,” the woman drawls, looking Goku up and down as her brother shakes Goku’s hand warily, “but from what I overhear, it sounds like  _ you _ are.”

 

“We  _ are _ acquaintances with the Briefs, in a sense,” Lapis says, sending Lazuli a sly smile.  “Don’t forget to mention that, Sis, if you’re feeling the need to get conversational with these people.”

 

“If you don’t want to talk to us,” Krillin says hurriedly, “you don’t have to.  We’re sorry if we offended you, Miss.”

 

Lazuli smiles at Krillin.  “Oh, but I want to be included in this conversation.”

 

“Okay,” Krillin says.

 

“I wonder what Miss Briefs would think of you talking about her like this,” Lazuli says.

 

“Or even worse,” Lapis chuckles, “her asshole fiancé.”

 

“No,” Lazuli says, “definitely _her_.”

 

“Well listen,” Goku says, his bright tone injecting cheer into the tense conversation, “we’re asking about her because my friends want to meet her.  I want to invite her to a party below decks.”

 

“There’s a party?” Yamcha says, suspecting Goku of making this up on the fly.

 

“I caught wind of some workers from the boiler rooms planning something tonight,” Goku says offhandedly.  “So what do you think? Can you invite her for us?”

 

“Invite  _ her _ ?” Lazuli sneers.

 

“Apparently, you weren’t listening,” Lapis says with a scowl.  “We’re not friends with the Briefs.”

 

“Not even friend ly ,” Lazuli says, folding her arms across her breasts.

 

“See, here’s the thing,” Lapis says, addressing the perturbed stares he’s getting, “our father has been in competition with the Briefs family and their inventions for a long time.  It’s why he’s gone over the top with some of the engine modifications on this ship -and the way he wants to push it.”

 

Yamcha gasps.  “Your father built the Shenron?”

 

“Merely added some modifications to it,” Lazuli says with a roll of her eyes.  “He insists it’s unstoppable now.”

 

“Though I suspect Dende would disagree,” Lapis says.

 

“Dende?” Goku asks.

 

“Mr. Dende’s the one who designed the Shenron,” Lazuli says.  “So. About that party…”

 

“Below decks?” Lapis scoffs at his sister.  “You’d be interested?”

 

“I don’t know,” Lazuli says, glaring at Yamcha and his friends.  “I don’t see anyone inviting me.”

 

Krillin jumps.  “I am! I’m inviting you!  Both...of you.”

 

“Krillin,” Yamcha says, uneasy about inviting people to a party they didn’t even know existed until a moment ago, “I’m not sure we c-“

 

Krillin’s sharp elbow prods Yamcha’s side, the pain making Yamcha bite his tongue.  He winces as he rubs the sore spot, and though everyone saw Krillin’s blatant act, no one says a word about it.  Goku at least looks concerned as he meets Yamcha’s gaze.

 

“You see?” Lapis says with a grin.  “Ask the right people, you get what you want.  I'll have to pass, though."

 

Lazuli looks down at herself, sighing. “I’m afraid I don’t know my way around, down below decks without an escort.”

 

“Well,” Krillin says, extending his palm toward her, “I can help you!”

 

Lazuli smiles at him.  Yamcha blinks, realizing she isn’t just smiling at Krillin.  She’s  _ really  _ smiling at him.  He has it in the bag with this girl!  Krillin just needs to be smooth.

 

“Meet me here? Around nine?” Lazuli asks Krillin, a hint of pink lighting her high cheekbones.

 

Krillin’s jaw falls while Goku stares at Lazuli, dumbfounded.  It takes Yamcha a minute to gather himself. Usually, the prospect of speaking to a beautiful woman terrifies him.  But with this one clearly having her sights set on Krillin, the pressure is off. 

 

Yamcha slaps Krillin’s back.  “Of course he will! Won’t you, Krillin?”

 

“Uh...uh...uh-huh,” Krillin says, nodding.

 

Lazuli’s eyes flit over Krillin’s reddening face, as if she’s enjoying and memorizing the effect she has on him.  Yamcha would love to have a girl look at him like that. He likes to imagine that happening with Bulma, if she’ll accept Goku’s invitation tonight.

 

“I don’t know my way around below decks,” Lapis mutters, shaking his head as they walk away.  “Good one, Sis. Real _smooth_.”

 

“I  know ,” Lazuli says.

 

Yamcha lets out a wistful sigh.  One day, he wants to be married and settled down with another human being.  As much as he loves Puar’s company, it’s not enough. If he ever works past his fear of women, like at this party, he might have a chance not to live out the rest of his life as a bachelor.

 

At the thoughts of dancing with Bulma or some other beautiful girl, his excitement builds.  His stomach does flips. He hopes Puar doesn't mind being left alone in the cabin for a few hours.  His friends’ hearty laughter as they walk reminds Yamcha that it’s not all about the girls.  He’ll have fun tonight, regardless.


	3. Ship Plans

 

Lapis stares at the painting lining his state room wall.  Abstract splashes of reds, yellows and oranges coat a black background.  He thinks of destruction and anarchy. The feeling overwhelms him, like everything is going to end soon.  His life will be over in one monumental disaster. He bets when that day comes, his father will be the one to blame.

 

Exhaling with a growl, Lapis flings himself backwards on the bed.  He falls into the soft comforter, trying to remove thoughts of his father from his mind.  It was talking about that old kook that put Lapis in this mood in the first place. Aside from that, he’s baffled by his sister’s behavior out on the deck.  She seems really interested in those people - especially the short, bald one. That isn’t like her.

 

A soft knock at his door.  “Lapis?” It’s his sister.

 

Lapis sighs.  “Come in.”

 

“Don’t tell me you’re getting all melancholy on me now.”

 

Lapis growls as his thoughts turn back to his father.  “I hate him, Lazuli. I want to see him lose everything.”

 

“It would really kill his career  _ and _ reputation,” Lazuli says after a pause, “if this ship with his name all over it went down.”

 

Lapis snorts a laugh.  “It would kill a lot more than that.”

 

“Aren’t you going to get ready for the party?”

 

“Not going.”

 

“Why not?”  Lazuli sounds offended.

 

Lapis sits up to look at Lazuli standing in his doorway with her arms crossed over a new deep purple dress, the chiffon more flowing and pliable than the heavy dress she wore earlier.  She looks...at ease. Less uptight and bitter than usual. Lapis...kind of likes her like this.

 

He looks her up and down, pursing his lips.  “Since when do you fraternize with poor people?”

 

Lazuli shrugs.  “Since I thought about how much it will piss off our stuck-up father when he hears about it.”

 

“Or,” Lapis says, smiling both because Lazuli is onto something and because he’s about to call her out on her ulterior motive, “since you enamored a little poor man who can’t wait to see you again.”

 

“Lapis,” Lazuli hisses with a glare, unable to hide the pink flush spreading across her cheeks.

 

Lapis waves it off.  “Go if you want to. Just don’t drag me into it.”

 

“Fine.” Lazuli sighs.  “It won’t be the same without you, though.”

 

“Hey,” Lapis says with a grin, “don’t you think you’re a little overdressed?  Considering where  _ you’re _ going-“

 

“Shut up.”

 

Lapis laughs, falling back into his mattress again as Lazuli leaves the room.  He resists the urge to look at that painting lurking on his wall. At least he knows he and his sister will always have these little victories.  His father is going to be furious about Lazuli consorting with third class beggars. Lapis almost wants to go to the party now, if only to see his face.  But he knows his sister isn’t going to be caught so soon. 

 

He’ll stay put for now.

* * *

 

Nearing the end of Shenron’s first day out to sea, Piccolo decides the voyage has been off to a great start.  Shenron’s engines are running smooth, its crew working under Piccolo’s thumb like a fine-tuned piano, every key performing the notes Piccolo plays with precision.  Mr. Popo reports good performance in the boiler rooms, all systems checking out. At moments like these, Piccolo can stand in the breeze and relieve himself of the bridge responsibilities just long enough to reap the rewards of his efforts.  The rush of ocean breeze flutters over his scalp, his captain’s hat pressed to his chest as he takes a moment to close his eyes. He smells the sweet salt air. He feels a touch of the sun’s diminishing warmth on his skin. He senses the cold, dense void lurking beneath them.

 

Mr. Popo’s voice cuts into his tranquil silence.  “More reports coming in from the crows nest of icebergs, Captain.”

 

“Very well,” Piccolo grumbles, opening his eyes to see the rolling clouds overhead.  “Continue on as planned. Keep the lookouts on duty through the night. We may need to slow the engines at nightfall.”

 

“Yes, Kami,” Mr. Popo says.

 

“Sh,” Piccolo says, “no one calls me by my first name on this ship, Mr. Popo.”

 

Mr. Popo laughs.  “Right. Any plans tonight, Captain?”

 

Piccolo hums, considering.  “Mr. Dende informed me of a dinner party tonight, I believe.”

 

“That’s right,” Mr. Popo says.  Piccolo can hear the smile in his voice.  “In the grand ballroom. I’m planning on attending.  The dinner and music should be magnificent. Mr. Dende’s pulled out all the stops in that room - it’s simply exquisite.  And I believe Dr. Gero will be there. He asked for a word with you earlier.”

 

Piccolo grunts.  He grimaces as his eyes turn from the sky to Mr. Popo and the bridge behind him.  He knows what Dr. Gero wants to discuss. The man may be a genius, but he knows nothing of the sea.  He knows nothing about the way a ship this size needs to run. He knows nothing because he  _ cares _ about nothing but his reputation and bottom line.

 

“Maybe I shouldn’t attend the party.”

 

“Oh, no!” Mr. Popo says, waving his hands.  “You must go. Our first class passengers will expect an opportunity to meet their captain, not just the first mate.  Besides, I wouldn’t know what to do with myself without you there, Piccolo.”

 

“Fine,” Piccolo relents with a huff, “but to be honest, Mr. Popo, I hate parties.”

 

Mr. Popo laughs.  He might suspect Piccolo of joking, but if he knows Piccolo as well as Piccolo thinks he does, then he  _ knows _ Piccolo is serious.  Piccolo’s passion lies with the sea and this ocean liner, or whatever ship he may be sailing at a given time. Right now, his greatest interest is the Shenron, not the trivial lives of the people inhabiting it.

* * *

 

The moment Vegeta enters the grand dining room, he knows this is the place where he’ll find Frieza’s men.  A sparkling chandelier hangs over his head. The oiled wood staircase before him ascends before dividing in opposing directions to the floor above.  At the divide, a spherical instrument is hung on the wall, glowing orange and whimsically designed with yellow stars to match its hands, yet in spite of its vivid colors, this focal point clock is somehow tactful and magnificent.  For a moment, its shimmering bronze curves and shining stars are all Vegeta sees.

 

“Wow,” Nappa breathes beside him.

 

“Focus, Nappa,” Vegeta snaps.  “Find that woman.”

 

“She’s a little hard to miss, huh?” Nappa chuckles, wiggling his brows.  “A pretty little thing.”

 

“We’re not doing anything yet, Nappa.  Just a little insurance in case that Zarbon or Dodoria recognize me.”

 

Murmurs from around the corner elicit a gasp from Vegeta.  He shoves Nappa in an alcove below the stairs under which he barely fits.  Vegeta places himself beneath Nappa’s shadow so as not to be noticed here. Dressed as they are, he knows they’re bound to be escorted out of the dining room.  As the murmurs grow louder and footsteps approach, Vegeta peeks around the corner.

 

A dark-haired girl is smiling and talking, waving her white, satin-gloved hands as the older, gargantuan man beside her nods and smiles.  Behind the pair is a set of elderly men, one of them stroking his white beard, the other scowling as they converse. A young man, passing from the opposite direction, going down rather than up as the others seem to be doing, catches a glimpse of Vegeta.  The man’s youthful green eyes seem to hold a twinkle when they meet Vegeta’s, his mild manner conveyed in that mere second of interaction.

 

Vegeta growls as he ducks out of view, though he curses himself, knowing he’s been spotted.  He hears the murmurs of the lady and older men drifting away before another voice speaks so close to him that Vegeta has to cover Nappa’s trap to keep him from crying his surprise.

 

“You’ve done a beautiful job with this ship, Mr. Dende,” a man with a nasally voice says.  “The Shenron couldn’t ask for a better architect.”

 

A soft laugh.  Vegeta knows immediately it’s the man who saw him.  “Thank you, Mr. Popo. Really, you flatter me. I put careful planning into the Shenron’s design, but I still worry it won’t live up to the reputation men like Dr. Gero have built for it.”

 

“What was the inspiration for this centerpiece?” Mr. Popo says.

 

“Vegeta,” Nappa whispers, hindering Vegeta from hearing the ongoing conversation which he is certain is in regard to that ornate clock hanging above the stairs, “there seems to be a dinner party.”

 

“Obviously,” Vegeta says, recalling the pieces of conversation he overheard from the lady who’d expressed her awe over the dresses she’d seen on route from her state room.  “This should make it easier to find them.”

 

“Right,” Nappa says, before his eyes light with recognition.  “Vegeta! It’s the old people!”

 

“Old people?” Vegeta sneers, following Nappa’s gaze.

 

Approaching the stairwell is the older couple who followed Zarbon and his woman on the deck earlier.  The woman wears her pearls below her pinned up blonde curls. The man wears a dashing blue scarf over his tux.  Vegeta hums, satisfied. He’s getting somewhere. Zarbon and Dodoria can’t be far.

 

“Now what, Vegeta?”

 

“We wait,” Vegeta says.

 

A feeling of control washes over him as he watches more first class passengers pour in toward the staircase. The presence of officers in suits adorned with the dragon crest of the Shenron worn by all crew members, is irritating to Vegeta.  He sees one officer in particular, tall with a strong chin and powerful presence, pacing at the top of the stairwell, glancing down in Vegeta’s direction from time to time. Vegeta suspects the officer knows he’s here and is toying with him. He refuses to have his mission thwarted by a suited clone with a power trip.

 

A fresh face turns the corner, lighting the room with her smile.  Vegeta’s breath catches in his throat when he sees her, the recognition striking him hard; the effect she has on him  _ this _ time around striking him harder.

 

“Do you want me to follow him?” Nappa whispers.

 

Vegeta’s eyes dart away from Zarbon’s arm linked with the woman’s to follow Dodoria parting from the group.  While Zarbon’s group heads toward a pair of double doors leading to a grouping of set tables, Dodoria heads up the stairs and takes a right turn past the clock.

 

“No,” Vegeta says.  “You keep an eye on Dodoria.  If you can find their state rooms, see if you can learn what they’re doing here.  I’ll follow Zarbon.”

 

Vegeta lets his eyes wander back up the stairs, where the dark-haired girl from earlier is flitting down the stairs to meet Zarbon’s girl.  As they meet at the stair landing and the girls reach out to hold each other’s hands, Vegeta notices the sparkle on her pale ring finger. A knot forms in his throat as his brows narrow.  

 

He sets his sights on Zarbon’s back, hating the man for following him here.  He hates anyone who works for Frieza, but he especially hates this man. Maybe the lawful presence in full force here can work to his benefit.  Before he takes Zarbon and his accomplice down completely, he’s going to hit him where it hurts. He only needs to find a way to lure the beautiful woman letting Zarbon put his coat over her cold shoulders away from this party without being seen.  Then he’ll make Zarbon look like a fool before completely ruining his trip aboard the Shenron.

 

Frieza will be sorry he ever set his men after the prince of Saiyan.

* * *

 

Chi-Chi can’t stop raving about the ship and all the extravagance here.  The current topic of conversation is the ornate clock centerpiece in the stairwell, and though Master Roshi and her father seem enrapt in her words, Dr. Gero is being rude.  An officer hovers over where they sit at the table, tall and domineering, stealing Dr. Gero’s attention. Chi-Chi clears her throat, narrowing her eyes at the old man. He only narrows his eyes at the officer.

 

“Officer,” Chi-Chi says, turning her eyes up to his intense green eyes, “would you mind stepping away from our table?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Thank you.”

 

“I  _ would _ mind,” he says with a sly grin.

 

“ _ Excuse _ me?” Chi-Chi grounds out.

 

“Miss,” he says calmly while everyone else looks at Chi-Chi with alarm, “it is my duty to maintain order on this ship.  My men are stationed strategically, including myself. I am in the perfect position to control this setting - for your safety.”

 

Chi-Chi scoffs, irritated by the long-winded explanation.  “Well I feel perfectly safe.”

 

“Miss King, my dear,” Dr. Gero says, “Officer Cell is doing a fine job here.  I’ve spoken to him at length since leaving port. I believe no one is better at this job than him.  This is why he’s been named the master at arms.”

 

Cell hums.  “You  _ feel _ safe, Miss King, because I am doing my job.  You may not realize it, but there are fiends everywhere.  This is a very large ship. You never know. Your enemies might be sitting right in front of you.”

 

Her father laughs uneasily.  “Well don’t scare the girl, Officer!  I’m sure it’s not all that serious.”

 

Cell cocks a smile and taps the side of his head.  “It’s awareness, you see? Scaring people is part of my job, Sir.”

 

Chi-Chi takes a deep breath, feeling ready to explode.  This man  _ doing his job _ isn’t her concern.  Her concern right now is having a good time at this table, which he is disrupting.  Her father paid a lot of money for their tickets aboard this ship to be treated well.  She expects professionalism from every member of this crew, security or otherwise. She expects not to hear lectures about safety while she enjoys her dinner.  The officer continues to stand over them with a self-satisfied grin.

 

“I don’t care about you protecting us,” Chi-Chi snarls, baring her teeth, barely able to restrain herself from screaming.  “I’m trying to enjoy this dinner party!”

 

Officer Cell’s green eyes bulge and begin to twitch before Dr. Gero pats his arm.  “Thank you for your contributions, Officer. I’m sure  _ most _ of us here appreciate it.”

 

The old man narrows his beady eyes across the table at Chi-Chi.  She huffs. She’s not backing down. The officer is completely out of line.  She reaches for her water, raising her nose in the air as she brings the glass to her lips.  She senses the approach of people at her side, whose presence stops in front of the empty chairs at her table.  While the cool water from her glass rushes down Chi-Chi’s parched throat, the officer turns to leave, glaring at her until he disappears completely.

 

“Hello,” Zarbon says, smiling down at Chi-Chi when she peers up at him over the rim of her glass.  “May we sit?”

 

“Oh!” Chi-Chi says, looking past Zarbon.  “Bulma! Please! Join us.”

 

“Hello, Chi-Chi,” Bulma says with a smile, putting a hand on Zarbon’s chest as she smoothly leads him away from Chi-Chi’s side, to Chi-Chi’s relief.  “Is anything wrong?”

 

“Wrong?”

 

“The master at arms,” Bulma says, nudging her head in the officer’s direction.  “Things looked somewhat tense before we came over.”

 

“Oh,  _ him _ ,” Chi-Chi sneers.  “No. Everything’s perfect.  Isn’t this an extravagant dinner party?”

 

Bulma shrugs before reaching for her water glass.  “I guess so.”

 

“You’re not impressed?” Chi-Chi says with a gasp.

 

“I’m used to events like these back home.  I guess it’s easy to take them for granted.  I’d rather venture out, do something more exciting.”

 

“Like what?”

 

“Dancing,” Bulma says with a wistful sigh.

 

“Dancing?” Chi-Chi feels blood rush to her face.  She claps her hands over her cheeks. “With boys?”

 

“Of course with boys,” Bulma hisses, bringing their conversation to a low volume as she eyes Zarbon having a reluctant conversation with a tipsy Master Roshi.

 

“But Bulma,” Chi-Chi says as she meets Bulma’s gaze, “you have a fiancé.”

 

Bulma snorts.  “He doesn’t dance.  Besides, I’m not talking about anything scandalous here, Chi-Chi.  A little dancing is harmless.”

 

“Oh.”  Chi-Chi’s heart flutters at the idea of meeting a boy and letting him sweep her off her feet.  “Dancing does sound a little fun.”

 

Bulma sighs.  “It’s a shame so many people with money equate classy with dull.”

 

“Oh, right,” Chi-Chi grumbles, nestling her cheek in her palm as her gaze spans across the dining room, the dinner party looking far less alluring now.  “There won’t be any dancing tonight.”

 

As Chi-Chi sighs again, she notes an attractive boy crossing the dining room alone.  His head is held high, his lips pulled down in a frown. His straight black hair frames his face like satin curtains.  Chi-Chi remembers seeing him in this dining room earlier in the day, but something is different about him now.

 

“Scoping out the Gero boy?” Bulma says.  “He’s cute, isn’t he?”

 

“Ge-Gero?” Chi-Chi cries, making an immediate connection to the rude older man sitting across from her.  “He’s Dr. Gero’s  _ son _ ?”

 

“Mm-hmm,” Bulma says, tracking young Mr. Gero with her eyes.  The appreciative look in her blue eyes falter when she furrows her brows.  “Hm. That’s strange.”

 

“Something’s different about him,” Chi-Chi says animatedly, knowing Bulma’s noticed it, too.

 

“Where could she be?”

 

As Bulma looks around the room, straining to see past the waiters traversing the dining hall with arms full of silver platters, Chi-Chi sighs.  That’s it. She remembers now seeing him with a girl their age. 

 

“He’s  _ always _ with her,” Bulma says, pressing a finger to her chin, “and yet…”

 

When Bulma rises from her chair, Chi-Chi springs to her feet.  She won’t let Bulma leave her behind. Not here, not now, when it’s become clear how much more fascinating  _ elsewhere _ might be.  She wants to meet a boy.  She’s eighteen already and not getting any younger.  She knows her father expects to see some grandchildren soon, and she’ll be more than happy to give him some - once she’s happily married.  Maybe not to the Gero boy, but there has to be some eligible man her age on this ship. Preferably, a handsome one.

 

Bulma moves across the dining hall with amazing quickness, considering the grace with which she carries herself.  Chi-Chi doesn’t know the meaning of this or what can come of tracking a boy to ask about the whereabouts of his sister.  But judging by the determination on Bulma’s face, Bulma knows exactly what she’s going. Until she bumps into someone.

 

When she’s thrown back from the collision, Chi-Chi catches Bulma, who scoffs as she turns to the obstruction in her path.  “Excuse you, Sir!” 

 

The man, short with a fierce glare, dressed in shabby dull clothes, bares his teeth at Bulma.  “Dammit, woman,  _ you’re _ the one who ran into  _ me _ !”

 

“Come on, Chi-Chi,” Bulma says, raising a dismissive chin and tugging Chi-Chi by the hand.  “I want to ask Lapis where Lazuli is.”

 

“Why?” Chi-Chi says, glancing back at the young man who stares after them, seething as his face turns bright red.

 

“Because,” Bulma says, “if there’s anything I know about Gero’s children, it’s that they rebel like crazy.  If she’s missing a dinner party like this, where do you  _ think _ she is?”

 

Chi-Chi blinks as they draw closer to the Lapis Gero standing with his arms crossed near a wall.  “The boiler rooms?”

 

Bulma laughs.  “Oh, no, Chi-Chi!  I would die of shock if she stepped foot in a place that dirty.”

 

“She doesn’t like dirt?”

 

“She wouldn’t  _ dare _ ruin her clothes.”

 

“Oh.”

 

“Let me handle this,” Bulma says as Lapis turns to look at them, his blue eyes piercing when they meet Chi-Chi’s gaze.  “Lapis.”

 

“Bulma Briefs.”

 

“Enjoying the party?”

 

“Cut the pleasantries,” Lapis says before looking at Chi-Chi.  “You’re Mr. King’s daughter.”

 

“Yes,” Chi-Chi says with a smile.

 

“New money,” Lapis says, before turning to Bulma.  “What do you want?”

 

Bulma crosses her arms.  “Where’s your sister?”

 

“Out.”

 

Bulma narrows her eyes.  “She has  _ many _ people to befriend on this ship - outside of all the passengers we know attending this party?”

 

As Bulma smiles slyly, Lapis looks even more sly. “She does now.”

 

“What?” Bulma cries.

 

“Yeah,” Lapis says, rolling his hand flippantly through the air.  “As a matter of fact, her new friends were asking about  _ you _ .”

 

Bulma lets her hands go slack at her sides.  “Huh?”

 

“One of them said he met you this morning,” Lapis says, eyeing Bulma.  “Goku.”

 

Bulma’s eyes bulge.  As she gasps, Chi-Chi places her hands on her hips.  She feels left out now, like there’s a large piece of information being kept hidden from her.  Bulma met a boy this morning and didn’t tell Chi-Chi. They were just together this morning, having breakfast.  Bulma could’ve told Chi-Chi all day…

 

Chi-Chi raises her brows as she remembers the incident.  “Breakfast.”

 

That boy was clearly where he didn’t belong, poor and uncivilized, but Chi-Chi remembers he was cute.  And now she hears this boy was asking about Bulma! Chi-Chi wants to meet this boy for herself, so she can show him what he’s missing out on by not paying attention to the  _ available  _ women on this ship.

 

“Well,” Bulma says through clenched teeth, “does Goku have a message for me?”

 

“He wanted to invite you to a party below decks,” Lapis says as he feigns interest in his well-trimmed fingernails.  “That’s where my sister should be now.”

 

“Thanks,” Bulma snaps, turning away from him, “for relaying the message.”

 

“Anytime,” Lapis says.

 

Chi-Chi can’t tell whether Lapis failed to detect Bulma’s sarcasm or only failed to  _ acknowledge _ it.  She and Bulma sneak out of the dining room undeterred.  Chi-Chi lets Bulma lead the way, hoping Bulma knows where she’s going.  She feels giddy and nervous, the idea of a real party conjuring scenarios in her mind.  She hopes to meet Goku properly. She hopes if he’s not interested, there’s at least some other boy who wants to dance with her, though before tonight, she never would’ve considered third class steerage as a place to find a decent husband.  Or dance partner. For now, she would settle for a dance partner. 

 

Chi-Chi meets Bulma’s exuberant gaze as they rush out the doors into the cool night air.  They share a giddy laugh on the deck where only a few stragglers stroll past. Bulma looks incredibly relieved to be out of that stuffy dining room.  Chi-Chi has to admit, she prefers it out here. Her adrenaline rushes with thoughts of the party and how out of sorts for her abandoning an elegant dinner like this is.  She takes a deep breath and gazes into the sparkling night sky, dreaming of something different. The perfect night. It’ll begin with the quaint steerage party. Now they need to hurry below decks.  

 

It’s time for them to dance.


	4. Ahead Full

“All right, your shift’s over.”

 

Tien stops what he’s doing.  He wipes his brow, panting as sweat and hot fumes burn his eyes. Everything around him looks like a mirage as he turns to the large man overshadowing him and the oven.  

 

The man plows past him, checking the gauges at his station as if Tien isn’t even here.  “I’ll take it from here.”

 

Tien has kept this boiler running all through the day.  Blazing hot, it kept the ship running at full speed, just as the captain wanted.  Tien presses his shoulders back, content he’s succeeded for the day. When he looks over at Chiaotzu’s slouched shoulders, his confidence wavers.

 

“Tien,” Chiaotzu says, his voice weak and muffled by the sounds of pistons and the engine’s constant roar, “I’m glad this day’s finally over.”

 

Tien forces a smile.  “You need to take it easy, Chiaotzu.”

 

“No way,” Chiaotzu says stubbornly, surprising Tien.  “If you’re working this hard, so am I. We’re in this together until we get to America.”

 

Chiaotzu is so determined, so firm in his resolve, that Tien can’t help but relent.  He wipes a pool of sweat off the top of his bald head before scooping up Chiaotzu’s red and gray striped hat from the ground.  “Put this on. It should be cold out there.”

 

“Compared to this,” Chiaotzu says with a chuckle as he stretches the knit hat over his head, “anything is cold.”

 

“You two headin’ to the party?” asks the large man bracing his large fingers around the hand wheel.

 

“Party? Oh, that,” Tien says, remembering that boy who’s always watching down here, who’d asked him if he was going tonight.  “No. We’re not...party people.”

 

“All right,” the large man says with a shrug, “suit yourselves.”

 

He continues with his work, not giving Chiaotzu or Tien a passing glance as they head through the watertight doors to reach the stairs.  Tien is relieved every time he passes through them.

 

“Tien,” Chiaotzu says, his feet thumping against the metal steps as they ascend the stairs, the engine noise fading to a low hum behind them, “what if we go to the party?”

 

“Chiaotzu!” Tien says, shocked at the suggestion.

 

“When’s the next time we’ll be on a ship like this, Tien?  All we do is work. I want to have something to remember this trip by.”

 

“Let’s steal some grub from first class,” Tien says with a chuckle, remembering a story they heard earlier about someone else trying it, “that’ll be something to remember.”

 

“No...I mean, it could,” Chiaotzu says, disappointment laced in his voice.  “Well if you want to-“

 

“Chiaotzu,” Tien says, holding in a sigh, “we can stop by the party to check it out.  You need your rest because we’ll be up early tomorrow to get back on duty-“

 

“Thank you, Tien!” Chiaotzu says, his voice trembling with excitement.

 

As Tien emerges on the deck with Chiaotzu, determining to wash off the grime and change into clean clothes before seeking out the party, he smiles down at his friend.  He is tired from a long day, but more than happy to join this party, knowing it’ll make their passage on this ship memorable for Chiaotzu.

* * *

 

As Krillin waits for her, he stares out at the sea.  He tries to convince himself that she’ll come, though deep down, he knows the reason she isn’t here yet must be because she’s not coming.

 

He hears footsteps and turns.  It isn’t her.

After giving a nod to a pair of workers with their weary faces drenched in sweat, Krillin turns back to the vast field of black ocean.  He hears laughter as they pass behind his back.

 

“That guy looks like such a loser,” says a small voice.

 

“Chiaotzu!” hisses the second.

 

Krillin rolls his eyes before glaring at the backs of the engine room workers.  The one who had just insulted him is shorter than he is, and working the boilers while Krillin’s been enjoying fresh air on deck.  He has no room to call Krillin a loser. But Krillin feels like one. He’s being stood up. When he hears footsteps this time, he doesn’t bother to turn from leaning over the railing.  The footsteps come to him until he sees purple fabric swaying in the breeze at his side.

 

“Please tell me this isn’t your party face.”

 

Krillin gasps, pushing off the railing to face her.  “Lazuli!”

 

She’s gorgeous.  Her blue eyes shimmer with the reflection of the water; her hair is down, grazing her shoulders and sweeping across her cheek.  Krillin wants to kiss her. He presses his lips together and leans away to stop himself. He doesn’t want to ruin a good thing before it’s started.  This beautiful girl doesn’t want a kiss from him. Her motives for accompanying him to this party have nothing to do with him. Krillin gulps and takes her hand, trying to ignore the disappointed look in her eyes when he gathers the courage to smile at her.  

 

“You look...lovely,” he says.

 

“Thanks,” Lazuli says with a frown.  “Has this party started yet?”

 

“Oh yeah,” Krillin says, pointing a thumb over his shoulder.  “Goku and the guys have been playing music and partying down there for a while now.”

 

Lazuli’s lips pull into a smirk.  “Well, let’s go.”

 

Krillin squeezes her hand and turns to head down to the party.  He’s going to make the best of it tonight and enjoy this while it lasts, because he knows Lazuli is high class, rich and beautiful, far out of his league.  He knows better than to believe this can last past tonight. That doesn’t mean he can’t make this one of the most memorable evenings of his life.

* * *

 

He’s having a blast.  Goku has no concern for the running of the ship above decks, or the etiquette of the diners in first class, or the work in the engine rooms, or any drama happening in the lives of other passengers.  He has drinks, dancing, and music. Yelling over the crowd, he leaps onto a table. The people sitting at this table cry out and lean back, but their cries are quickly replaced by laughter when Goku begins to dance.

 

“Go, Goku!” Yamcha hollers, thrusting his mug of foaming ale into the air.

 

Laughing, Goku picks up the pace.  His feet move so fast, most of the people in this room can’t follow his movements.  He taps and sweeps his heel, his heart racing as his shoes skid and rap against the table.  It shakes beneath him, but his balance is impeccable. He’s in complete control, loving every moment of this as he breathes laboriously and sweat pools on his forehead.  The fast tempo of the music and overall excitement in the cramped room drive him. When the music ends, applause and cheers erupt. Goku jumps, clicking his heels as he passes through the air. He lands in a crouch, slapping his hand on the hard table as he looks out on all the faces in the room smiling and laughing.  When a new song begins, he’s ready to go again.

 

Goku leaps off the table, slowing when he realizes this is a song that requires a partner.  He sees in front of him, entering the room, a pair of women who look lost, one of whom he recognizes.  Goku beams before heading over to them. No one’s asked them to dance yet, but it’s only a matter of time before someone beats him to Bulma.

 

Yamcha sweeps in front of Goku, pushing aside chairs and weaving between people to reach the door.  Goku almost forgot about Yamcha wanting to meet Bulma. Now that Yamcha’s managing his own introduction, Goku’s down one opportunity for a dance partner.  When he reaches the girls, he’s relieved to see that Bulma’s friend seems to have turned down the one man who approached her before Goku could reach her. Yamcha’s hand falls on Goku’s shoulder with a trembling grip.

 

Goku pats his friend on the back while meeting Bulma’s gaze.  “Hey, Bulma! You made it!”

 

Her smile falls as she narrows her brows.  “No thanks to anyone here properly extending me an invitation, _Goku_.”

 

“Go easy on him, Bulma,” her friend says, her dark eyes darting to Goku as pink washes over her cheeks, “he couldn’t have possibly sought you in the first class section, not a second time.”

 

“Hey!” Goku says, noticing the music is passing through its second verse already, and men all around them are eyeing the girls.  “You two care to dance?”

 

Bulma’s eyes go wide as she presses her hand to her chest and looks at Yamcha.  “Oh, I thought-“

 

“Yeah,” Goku says in a rush, taking the other girl by the hand, “you dance with Yamcha.  I’m going to dance with-“

 

“Chi-Chi,” the girl says, squeezing her small fingers around his hand, “my name is Chi-Chi King.”

 

“Goku Son,” he says with a grin.

 

As Goku pulls Chi-Chi onto the crowded dance floor, Chi-Chi’s red-lipped smile spreads from ear to ear.  Her cheeks become an impossibly brighter shade of red. When she turns her smile on him, it makes Goku feel warm inside.  Not just from the dancing, but something else he can’t quite put his finger on. He twirls her across the floor, and as she bumps into Bulma, the girls grunt.  Yamcha casts Goku an apologetic smile, and as the girls share a laugh, Goku sneaks Yamcha a thumbs up where Bulma can’t see it. Yamcha can handle dancing with a girl, even though the guy seems to think he can’t.  Goku doesn’t know what the big deal is. It’s easy. It’s just dancing.

 

Chi-Chi dances amazingly well.  For a first-class girl, she’s _unexpectedly_ good.  She seems to be trained in this style of dance, and though Goku leads her through the steps, he suspects she can do this on her own.  

 

“Wow,” he says, his breath fluttering the loose dark locks framing Chi-Chi’s face against her flushed cheeks, “you’re really good.”

 

“Of course I am,” Chi-Chi says, narrowing her eyes and smiling, “I’ve had extensive dance training.  What’ve you had?”

 

Goku smiles.  He likes this girl.  She challenges him, and even though Goku knows she has no chance of outdoing him, his blood is pumping with the anticipation of what she’ll surprise him with next.

 

“Chi-Chi!” Bulma cries, laughing as Yamcha whirls her toward Chi-Chi and the girls grab each other’s hands, “are you having fun?”

 

“Oh, yes!  Now I want to try-“

 

The music stops.  When applause surrounds them, Goku claps his hands and looks toward the musicians.  The guy he met today named Bora plays amazingly well. Him and his teen son adjust their string instruments and whisper to one another before the young Upa meets Goku’s gaze.  As he raises his bow, Upa’s eyes flicker to where Chi-Chi moves beside Goku.

 

“Hey!” Goku says when Chi-Chi grabs his shoulder, using him as an assist as she tosses something away, steps up on a chair, and then up on a table, her long yellow gown dragging across the surfaces.

 

“Chi-Chi!” Bulma says, her eyes bulging at Chi-Chi.

 

“What are you do-“

 

Goku is interrupted by Chi-Chi’s hard glare.  When she turns it on the musicians with a nod, Bora, whose bow now sags, clears his throat and straightens in his chair.  Upa fumbles his hands into position. Chi-Chi forms an oval in front of her with the lines of her slender arms, pressing her fingertips together.  Upa slides his bow, beginning a melody at a slow tempo.

 

“Chi-Chi,” Bulma whispers, hurrying to raise Chi-Chi’s draping skirt off the table, though it already appears to be rising on its own.

 

Goku has no idea what Chi-Chi’s up to, but he is impressed by the way she controls the room.  All eyes are on her as her black head of hair rises higher and higher, nearing the room’s low ceiling.  She stands with perfect poise, her shoulders, back and arms rising in sync with her height and with the crescendo of the music.  As Bulma shifts the hem of Chi-Chi’s dress, Goku sees the bare skin of Chi-Chi’s feet on the table, her toes pointed to an impossible degree as she continues to rise with the increasing tempo of Upa and Bora’s music.  When she reaches the point where the tips of her toes are the only body part supporting her weight, Chi-Chi screams.

 

Goku sees the collapse before it happens.  He rushes up against the table, catching Chi-Chi in his arms before she can tumble to the ground.  When her weight hits his arms, she laughs and tosses her head back.

 

“I always wanted to try that!” she says.

 

Goku smiles, but he can’t laugh.  He can’t laugh when she’s so close to him, radiating warmth and a tantalizing perfume, baring to his eyes the long line of her pale neck and the swells where the beaded neckline of her dress meets her skin.  When she lifts her head to look at him, Goku feels like something's wedged in his throat. He can’t talk. He licks his lips, attempting to soothe the dryness he feels, but when Chi-Chi does the same, with her tongue darting out between her red lips, it doesn’t help.

 

“Goku?” Chi-Chi says, her eyes lowering to Goku’s lips and back up to meet his eyes again.  “You-“

 

“I’m sorry!” Goku shakes his head, determined not to embarrass Chi-Chi in front of all these people.

 

“What do you have to be sorry about?” Chi-Chi asks, shifting to her feet and smoothing back the hair clinging to her face.  “That was wonderful. I’ve never had so much fun dancing. You’re incredible!”

 

Goku feels his cheeks burn as he rubs the back of his head.  “Yeah. I guess I am.”

 

He jumps when Chi-Chi thrusts herself against him, nearly knocking him over.  She dances her fingers down the length of his torso, tracing his buttons with a strange look in her eyes.

 

“Ch-Chi-Chi?”

 

“Maybe you...can show me some more dance moves another night?”

 

“Sure, I guess,” Goku says, cocking a brow at her odd change in mannerism.

 

She beams.  “Really? Promise?”

 

“Whatever,” Goku says, his eyes flitting toward the ceiling as he wonders how they’re going to do this.  “Meet me on deck, maybe?”

 

“Oh, that’ll look too suspicious.  I’ll meet you down here.”

 

“Okay.”

 

When Chi-Chi lunges toward him, Goku doesn’t even see it coming.  Her soft lips peck his cheek, a touch that has to be the softest sensation he’s ever felt.  His cheek tingles when she pulls away. As he presses his fingers against the sensation, Chi-Chi giggles.

 

“Well, it was - I mean, it was lovely dancing,” Chi-Chi says as she fiddles with the detailing of her beaded neckline.  “I love you. Dancing! I loved _dancing_ with you.”

 

Chi-Chi’s cheeks pulse with a vibrant hue of red.  Her hands fly to her face. With her fingers cupped over her eyes, Goku can’t tell whether she’s upset with him, though he has no idea what he could’ve done to upset her.  He scratches his head as she flees the room, seizing Bulma by the hand and snatching her from Yamcha while Yamcha’s still talking to Bulma. As Goku watches confusion draw upon Yamcha’s face, he frowns.  He watches the girls leave the room, bumping into Krillin on their way out.

 

A new song starts to play.  The fast beat instantly has Goku tapping his foot.  He turns to join a group of men in forming a circle around the dance floor.  He knows he’ll be the next one stepping in.

* * *

 

Bulma catches her breath once outside the party.  She’s managed to gather a cigar and a match before Chi-Chi pulled her away from the party, and she intends to use them before returning to her mundane life with her jejune parents and her vacuous fiancé.

 

Bulma places the cigar between her lips and strikes the match on the wall, all the while being eyed by Chi-Chi.  She stares back at Chi-Chi as she puts the flame to the tip of her cigar, waiting for a plume of smoke to drift before her eyes.  Chi-Chi has no room to judge her for this. Bulma saw Chi-Chi in there. The girl was practically throwing herself at Goku. Chi-Chi raises a finger at Bulma, narrowing her brows at the same moment Bulma’s lungs warm and tingle with the sensation of smoke.

 

Bulma blows the smoke through her lips.  “Uh-uh. You get to flirt with third class boys, I get to smoke.”

 

Chi-Chi scoffs.  “It was one boy! And you were flirting with a third class boy, too.  I saw you.”

 

“Yamcha?” Bulma laughs, though she’s quick to take another drag from her sweet cigar, knowing there’s some truth to Chi-Chi’s accusation.  “We’re more like friends, him and me. I’m engaged to Zarbon. Remember Zarbon? Gorgeous...powerful...rich?”

 

“Jerk?” Chi-Chi says, crossing her arms.

 

Bulma shrugs.  She knows Chi-Chi’s right.  She doesn’t know what she’s thinking, believing when they arrive in America, she’ll actually be happily married to Zarbon, spending the rest of her life with him and his creepy friends around.  She sighs, preparing to confess these feelings to Chi-Chi. She supposes it’s about time she tells _someone_ how she really feels.  

 

She throws her cigar to the institutional white metal flooring of these third-class accommodations before stomping on it with the point of her shoe.  When she looks up, she catches movement just past Chi-Chi’s shoulder. In the previously vacant hall is a man. He disappears from her view as quickly as he appeared, but Bulma is certain she’s not mistaken.  The man is the same underdressed man she ran into in the grand dining room. And now he’s down here, slipping into a doorway the moment Bulma’s spotted him. He’s following her.

 

“Chi-Chi,” Bulma says, easing forward and reaching into her corset for the pocket knife she secretly carries for protection, “stay here for a moment.  Don’t go far, okay?”

 

When Bulma glances over her shoulder, Chi-Chi’s not looking her way.  She’s peeking through the tiny window of the door leading back into the party, observing from the outside.  Bulma knows who Chi-Chi is watching, but she can’t let Chi-Chi’s childish behavior annoy her. She needs to focus on what she’s doing now if she doesn’t want to put herself in danger.

 

Bulma holds her breath and walks on her toes as she approaches the closed door where she saw her stalker.  She tries to imagine why she’s being followed. Maybe Zarbon hired this man to keep an eye on her. If so, her flirtatious dancing with a steerage passenger won’t bode well for her.  Bulma stifles a growl as she reaches for the knob and clenches her fingers around her closed pocket knife she most likely won’t need. She’s sure that is _exactly_ why this man is following her.  There’s no other reason she can fathom, and her theory makes perfect sense.  She won’t allow this man to ruin her marriage! She’ll end her engagement on her own terms! Throwing caution to the wind, Bulma throws the door open.  

 

Darkness.  She hisses as she takes a step through the door, expecting a surprise attack from the man she knows is lurking here.

 

“I saw you come in here,” Bulma says, gritting her teeth.  “Now come out and show yourself!”

 

She waits.  Nothing rises from the darkness.  As she clenches her fists in front of her, wanting to kick herself for not having her weapon ready, nothing happens.  Bulma begins to back toward the door leaking faint light in through the doorway. Maybe she imagined the ghostly figure walking in here.

 

“You sure you want me to do that?”

 

The threat behind the deep voice sends a quiver down Bulma’s spine.  She sinks her teeth into her bottom lip, swallowing a scream. A figure slides out of the shadows, where Bulma can only see him from his chiseled chin down.  His outfit is ragged and faded, definitely the same suit she saw on the man creeping around the dining room. She sees no weapons in the open hands hanging at his sides, which restores her confidence.  She’s not the only one without a weapon at the ready here. And she has the class advantage. Whatever happens, no one will believe a word he says if his story differs from hers, and he has to know this.

 

Bulma takes a deep breath.  “Why are you following me?”

 

“Zarbon,” he says.  “You seem to know him well.”

 

Bulma folds her arms across her chest, feeling the need to conceal herself before the man’s gaze.  His comment is harmless and yet suggestive. She doesn’t know how long this man has been watching her since boarding the Shenron, or even before if this really is about Zarbon.  But she can guess the nature of his watching, if it has anything to do with her being intimately acquainted with her fiancé.

 

“You’ve obviously seen us together.  I must warn you,” Bulma says with a flinch as the man steps closer to her, “if you try to hurt me, I’ll scream.  I’m too young and beautiful to die!”

 

“I’m not here to kill you.”  He steps toward her again, revealing a toothy grin to Bulma’s eyes, his smile and demeanor contradicting his words.

 

Bulma’s bottom lip quivers as she backs into the open door.  “Chi-Chi!”

 

“Zarbon,” the man snarls as he comes face to face with Bulma, “is here to kill _me_.”

 

“What?” Bulma blinks rapidly.  “That’s impossible.”

 

“Is it?  You don’t seem completely stupid.  You must realize who he works for.”

 

“Completely stupid?” Bulma scoffs.

 

She’s irritated mostly by his insult, but also about the fact that she’s still alone here and Chi-Chi hasn’t heeded her call.  She’s irked by the reminder of Lord Frieza, who she’s only seen from a distance and the man already terrifies her. She’s had her suspicions about the nature of Zarbon’s work for a while now, but she refuses to believe it.  Surely, if Frieza sent anyone here to kill this man, it’s Dodoria he sent, not Zarbon. Besides, this man is obviously poor. He’s nobody. Frieza wouldn’t waste his time putting Zarbon and Dodoria both on a ship for the likes of this man who insults a lady while hidden in shadows and anonymity.

 

The man is _on_ Bulma before she realizes what’s happening.  She smacks and clings to the hard door at her back, sandwiched between it and his warm body while his breath coasts across her cheek.  His dark eyes are narrowed into slits as she meets his gaze, panting. Warm pressure squeezes her throat. His thumb dips into her clavicle.  Bulma’s painting ceases. She can’t breathe.

 

“Nobody’s taking me down,” he says, his hand trembling and increasing pressure around Bulma’s throat.  When Bulma’s eyes go wide with terror, he releases her, his hand falling away as his glare softens to a frown.  “I don’t belong down here with these peasants anymore than you do. Frieza has plenty of reason to want me dead.  You don’t believe me.” He looks Bulma up and down appraisingly. “What a waste. All those looks and so little brains.”

 

“ _That’s_ rich,” Bulma says with a twitching glare, “coming from a man who strangles and threatens the rich and famous woman engaged to the man who supposedly wants to kill him, on a ship full of officers itching to find someone to arrest.”

 

He huffs.  He actually looks impressed as he pulls away from Bulma’s glare with a smug grin.  Bulma is relieved to have her airway unobscured and strangely disappointed when the warm pressure of his body leaves cool air wafting against her heated skin.

 

He brushes past her, emerging into the hall and leaving Bulma in the doorway.  She wraps her fingers around the doorknob, leaning into it as if the small piece of brass can support her weight.  When the man looks back at her, just a quick glance over his tense shoulder, Bulma holds her breath. She doesn’t know whether he’ll insult her or throw her up against the wall again.  She almost wants him to kiss her with those supple lips of his which don’t tremble in the slightest.

 

She wants to ask him his name.  If she knows who he is, she might be able to pry some information off of Zarbon about him.  She’s sure he has to be lying, making this whole thing up. As he turns his back on her, Bulma clutches a hand to her chest.  If he’s lying, why follow her around? Why risk crashing a dinner party in first class if he didn’t have good reason to be there?  Why leave her now, when he’d had the opportunity to do as he wanted with her? There are no witnesses around, no one near enough to hear her cry for help over the raucous music from the party as he disappears down the hall.  If he isn’t lying, then Bulma knows there would be no point in asking him for his name. He’d be secretive about it. He would’ve boarded the Shenron under a false name. It’s what Bulma would do if she wanted to lay low.

 

“Bulma.”

 

Bulma jumps, whirling on the person behind her with her closed pocketknife raised in the air.  When her eyes light on Chi-Chi, who looks at her with concern, Bulma groans. “Chi-Chi, where have you been?”

 

“Where have _I_ been?” Chi-Chi asks, bracing her hands on her hips.  “Where have _you_ been?  I turn around and you’re gone.”

 

“I told you-“ Bulma huffs and massages her forehead.  “Never mind. Let’s just get back up to the first class section. I’ve had enough down here.”

 

“Oh.”  Chi-Chi’s shoulders sag.  “I was hoping you might want to return to the party with me.  There’s a fortune teller with a crystal ball and everything!”

 

“Fortune teller?” Bulma sneers.  “Chi-Chi, I’m - I’m tired, okay?”

 

“Then again,” Chi-Chi says, rubbing her chin, “the fortune teller seems to be taking on a somber mood and refusing a lot of readings now.”

 

“I’d let you stay if you want to, but then who’s going to walk you back to your room?”

 

“Oh!” Chi-Chi claps her hands together as her eyes brighten.  “That won’t be a problem. Lapis’ sister is at the party, just like he said.  I’m sure I can ride the lift back with her.”

 

Bulma scratches her neck and quirks a brow.  “Lazuli Gero? Okay…”

 

“Do you think it would be too forward of me to ask Goku for another dance?” Chi-Chi says, clutching Bulma by the hands.  

 

Without waiting for Bulma’s answer, Chi-Chi ricochets off Bulma and bounds toward the music-filled party room.  Bulma scowls, placing her hands on her hips as she watches her friend disappear through the swinging door unaware of the trauma Bulma’s just endured.  Now she’s left here, sighing, with no one to accompany her back to her room. She’ll have to ask Yamcha, if she can pry him away from the party. It’ll give her the chance to let him down easy.  She might’ve led him on a bit, and given her current circumstances with this mystery man and Zarbon, she’s in no place to indulge in another man’s flirtations.

 

She has a lot to think about.


	5. Itinerary

Yamcha wakes to the soft fur of Puar’s tail curling beneath his chin.  “G’morning, Puar.”

 

When he opens his eyes, he’s blinded by blazing sunlight pouring in through the porthole window.  The sound of Goku’s snores grate against his nerves. Puar’s rumbling purr fails to counter the noise.  Wincing, Yamcha wraps an arm around Puar before sitting up and placing his furry friend on his shoulder.  Puar likes it there. He nestles right around Yamcha’s neck and shoulders, his tail hanging down Yamcha’s chest.  Yamcha smiles. He’s content like this. After Bulma left the party last night, he had several women asking him for dances.  It was a little overwhelming honestly, but good to know he has options. Krillin’s made it perfectly clear that Bulma is beyond his station, but the other beautiful girls aren’t.

 

Yamcha blows a raspberry as he glares over at Krillin sleeping in his bunk.  Puar shifts his weight and lets out a high-pitched meow, as if echoing Yamcha’s thoughts.  Krillin has a lot of nerve, telling Yamcha he has no chance with a first class girl. Both he and Goku were dancing all night with girls from first class who had eyes for no one else.  At least Goku doesn’t expect anything serious from it, but it’s clear that Krillin does. He already made plans to see Lazuli Gero again today.

 

As far as Yamcha’s plans, he’s going to check out the boiler rooms.  His new friends he met at the party last night seem to think he won’t be able to handle the heat, noise and pressure down there.  He’ll show them they don’t know with whom they’re dealing. Besides, the challenge could be refreshing.

 

* * *

Vegeta wakes to his bed rattling.  He peers through bleary eyes at an ugly, square-jawed face scowling down at him.  “What?” he growls.

 

“I’m sorry, Prince Vegeta,” Nappa says, easing back and giving Vegeta room to sit up.  “But I need to eat.”

 

“So eat,” Vegeta says, throwing his pillow in the oversized moron’s face.

 

He can’t believe he’s being woken up for this.  As he sees Nappa’s features contorting into a grimace, Vegeta knows what the problem is.  Nappa’s hungry, but he doesn’t want to eat because eating means commingling with other third class passengers.  There’s nothing Vegeta can do about this. Nappa has a choice - he can eat with them or he can starve. After the party last night, Vegeta knows his choice.  He’d rather starve than affiliate himself with those people. As he decides this with a curt nod, his stomach growls. He ignores it.

 

“Are you sure we can’t steal some food from first class?  I’ll get in and out of there, Vegeta. They’ll never see me.”

 

“Remind me,” Vegeta says, “what did you find in Dodoria’s state room?”

 

“Vegeta,” Nappa groans.  He sighs as his shoulders slump.  “A photo of you. It was the only thing worth mentioning.”

 

“Who determines what’s worth mentioning, Nappa, you or me?”

 

“You.”

 

“The photo is evidence enough.  Frieza wants him to find me, and I’m sure it’s not to pay me off for the pain and suffering his murders have caused my family and my country.  What else was in Dodoria’s state room?”

 

“A sketchbook with lots of landscapes, clothes, shoes, jewelry…I don’t know,  Vegeta.” Nappa scratches his bald head. “How does any of this matter?”

 

“And in Zarbon’s state room?”

 

“Well,” Nappa says with a frown, “ _ they _ were in there.  I couldn’t-“

 

“The fiancé doesn’t seem to know anything about him.”

 

Nappa shakes his head and scowls.  “Women.”

 

Vegeta’s lip quirks into a smile.  “I’ve planted a seed, Nappa. If we bide our time, I’m sure she’ll find out everything we need to know about Zarbon  _ for _ us.”

 

Nappa knits his brows.  “What?”

 

“What we do know,” Vegeta says, narrowing his eyes, “is that they are after us, so you blowing our cover by spending even a second more in first class is out of the question.  We’ve taken enough risk already.”

 

Vegeta kicks his feet over the side of the bed, scowling at his toes as they hit the splintering wooden floor.  There are only a few days left on this journey crossing the Atlantic. Vegeta left the continent expecting to reach it without problem, but realizes now that it’s more likely to come down to his life or theirs before they reach port.  Gritting his teeth, Vegeta rises. He trembles as he looks out to the glowing sunlight reflecting off the ocean in his porthole window. He won’t let Frieza’s men kill him like they killed his family. If they find him, he’s going to kill them both.  The only thing is, he has no idea how he’ll get away with that, now that he’s put himself in the position of steerage trash. No master at arms will ever buy his story over a diplomat of Lord Frieza’s. He’ll have to kill them both before anyone knows what happened.  That won’t be easy. Chances of this plan being successful are extremely thin.

 

As Vegeta slides his arms into the sleeves of his pauper’s shirt, he realizes he’s lost his morning appetite.

* * *

While eating breakfast, Chi-Chi spots Goku out on the decks.  He’s joking with his friends, probably recounting the events from last night’s party, and Chi-Chi wishes to be out there with him.  She glances into her father’s eyes before pushing her plate to the center of the table. There’s oatmeal and fruit still on her plate, but she doesn’t care to eat the rest of it.  If she does that, she might miss him. Besides, Bulma is already out there, having eaten earlier, and Chi-Chi is missing out on the reunion. She scoots her chair abruptly from the table, causing her father’s eyes to rise from his morning paper.  

 

She smiles, hoping he doesn’t question her.  “Excuse me, Pa. I’m just going to...step outside for some fresh air.”

 

Her father puts his paper down and beams.  “It’s a beautiful, crisp sunny morning, isn't it?  Are you joining Miss Briefs outside?”

 

“Ah, yes,” Chi-Chi says as her eyes dart to the tart on her father’s plate and the untouched apple on hers.  

 

Remembering the first time she saw Goku, Chi-Chi reconsiders her notion of dismissing the food.  He would want it. Bulma said he told her they weren’t feeding the passengers much in steerage. Chi-Chi swipes the food and folds it into the top layer of her skirts.  

 

“Well I’ll finish my breakfast with Dr. and Mrs. Briefs, then,” he says with a nod to the older couple at their table who appear to be in their own world, one reading a book and the other staring off into space.

 

Chi-Chi bites her lip.  She doesn’t mean to abandon her father.  But Goku is still out there. The next time she looks, he might be gone.  She has a feeling he might be the type to disappear and run off if she doesn’t move fast enough.  Besides, her father is smiling with no pretense in his words. He’s content to be left here. She won’t be content to stay here.

 

“Ah, Ox!”

 

The old man’s voice makes Chi-Chi beam before she bolts toward the double doors leading outside.  She feels no guilt now that she knows Master Roshi is joining her father at his table. She practically squeals as the fresh sea breeze hits her face.  When she looks past the door swinging back toward her, she sees Goku hasn’t left yet. He’s here.

 

“Goku!” she calls, waving as she runs toward the group.

 

The little bald one she met at the party last night, Krillin, was speaking before she called.  He looks at her now with his jaw dropping, his words seemingly forgotten with her interruption.  Chi-Chi flushes, feeling a little awkward coming into the conversation this way. If she did this with the people in first class, she knows she’d be shunned for her new-money ways.  But Goku beams and waves back at her. He doesn’t care about formalities. He’s genuinely happy to see Chi-Chi. 

 

Chi-Chi’s tempted to fling herself into Goku’s arms, but she stops herself when she remembers the food she holds.  She stops short just in front of him, clearing her throat as she reaches to pull the food from her gown.

 

“I brought you something,” she says, handing Goku the apple and holding the tart beside her face.

 

Goku’s eyes light up.  As he reaches for the apple, his smile stretches from ear to ear, making Chi-Chi feel warm and tingly inside when his dark eyes meet hers.  He grabs the apple, wrapping his fingers around Chi-Chi’s. Chi-Chi feels the tug before the apple is removed from her fingers and Goku sinks his teeth into it.

 

“Thanks, Chi-Chi!” Goku says around the wad of apple in his mouth.  “I was starving. How’d you know?”

 

“Goku,” Krillin says, shaking his head and crossing his arms, “when are you not starving?”

 

Goku’s laugh is muffled as he takes another bite of the apple, reaching the core already.  His friends have a good laugh and Chi-Chi can’t help giggling along with them, though she feels a deeper appreciation for her thoughtfulness than Goku lets on.  Chi-Chi twirls the tart between her fingers, considering feeding it to Goku when he tosses away the apple core. It might not seem completely appropriate, but-

 

Chi-Chi gasps.  The tart is gone, swiped from her fingers seemingly out of nowhere.  When she sees Goku shoving it in his mouth whole, she narrows her eyes at him.  That was rude. This is not the way she planned for this to happen, even if she did tell him she was bringing the tart for him.  Feeding it to him would’ve been so much more romantic. She growls. 

 

His eyes go wide as he gulps down the tart.  “Chi-Chi?”

 

Chi-Chi screams, “Idiot!”

 

Krillin falls back, clinging to Goku’s arm as Yamcha does on the other side of Goku.  Chi-Chi didn’t think it was possible for someone as seemingly brave and fearless as Goku to look as scared as he does now.  She presses her hands on her hips, satisfied that she’s made an impact on him, but still mad about that tart.

 

“Are you okay?” Goku says.

 

“What’s your problem?” Krillin asks.  “He only ate the food you gave him.”

 

Chi-Chi raises a finger at Krillin.  “You stay out of this! Goku, can I speak to you alone for a moment?”

 

Goku shrugs.  “Sure.” 

 

When he doesn’t move, Chi-Chi sends him a withering glare.  “Over here.”

 

She gestures to the area of deck where no one stands, which looks private enough.  She doesn’t like his friends eavesdropping and disrupting their conversation. She wants Goku to know why she brought him the food, and not just because she knew he’d be hungry.  She wishes she could tell him how she feels about him, but when she looks in his eyes, that handsome face of his looking back at her with patience and curiosity, she can’t. If she tells him, she might get his hopes up.  With her father coming into money now, Chi-Chi doesn’t know she’ll be allowed to settle with a penniless man like Goku. But she wants to. She wants to be with him more than she’s ever wanted anything.

 

“What did you want to talk to me about, Chi-Chi?”

 

Chi-Chi exhales the breath she’s been holding.  “You’re a really great dancer, Goku.”

 

“Thanks.  So are you!”

 

“We’re still going to dance together again before we reach port, right?”

 

“Well,” Goku says, scratching his head, “I don’t know if there will be any more parties.  But we can always dance alone together.”

 

“Alone?” Chi-Chi gulps, her cheeks burning at the thought of being alone with Goku, in a private room.  “Together?”

 

“Yeah.”  Goku smiles and leans into her, coming nearly nose-to-nose with Chi-Chi.  “I had fun dancing with you. I want to have fun with you again.”

 

“Oh, Goku!” Chi-Chi says with a giggle as she slaps Goku’s shoulder, inadvertently knocking him hard enough that he stumbles back.  “You’re too much! I can’t believe you would be so forward.”

 

Goku rubs his chest and winces.  “Ouch. Forward?”

 

“Chi-Chi?”

 

Chi-Chi jumps at the call.  Her father. He’s outside. He sees her with Goku.  Chi-Chi gasps before seizing Goku’s hands in hers and shaking them vigorously. 

 

“I have to go, Goku.  That’s my Pa. But we will have that private dance.  Don’t forget, okay?”

 

Chi-Chi rushes away from a baffled Goku, leaving him scratching his head as she joins her father’s side.  She expects to see a scowl on her father’s face, but her old man is beaming. He has Bulma standing next to him, who looks at Chi-Chi with a self-satisfied grin.

 

“Well, Chi-Chi,” her father says, “he looks like a strong young man.  Bulma tells me he’s the same boy who was in the dining room yesterday morning with the voracious appetite.”

 

“Yes,” Chi-Chi says through clenched teeth, shooting Bulma a glare, “he is.”

 

“Good!” Her father claps his hands together.  “I always wanted you to marry a man who could measure up to your old man in a fight  _ and _ appetite.”

 

“Marry?” Chi-Chi says as she watches Bulma’s jaw drop.

 

“You are planning to marry him, aren’t you?” her father asks, his eyes darkening.  “I won’t have my daughter fooling around with a young man she doesn’t intend to-“

 

“Yes!” Chi-Chi says.  “Of course Goku and I plan to be married.”

 

Her father beams.  “Well then, that gives me plenty to do for the remainder of my time on the Shenron.  It takes lots of work to plan a wedding, but at least I know now I can die a happy man, knowing I married my daughter off to a suitable husband.”

 

Chi-Chi laughs, feeling nervous under Bulma’s accusing stare.  “We don’t have to do it right away or anything.”

 

“Of course,” her father says, pressing his hands into his jacket pocket.  “But early planning is always best. We’ll need a monster of a feast for that young man, I think!”

 

As her father guffaws, Chi-Chi feels a prickle of excitement.  She’s dreamed about her wedding day since she was a little girl.  Now her father is talking about making it a reality. The idea of kissing Goku, loving him, building a home with him, having children with him, runs away with her. She barely knows him and yet the picture of them is so concretely planted in her mind that she can’t fathom ever marrying anyone else.

 

As her father turns away, muttering unwritten plans to himself, Bulma turns on Chi-Chi.  “When are you planning on telling Goku? His  _ wedding _ day?”

 

“I’ll tell him the next time I see him,” Chi-Chi says with a raise of her chin.  “I know my Goku will be as excited as I am.”

 

“Chi-Chi.”

 

“Bulma,” Chi-Chi says with a sigh, her hands clasped in front of her chest, “we’re going to be so happy together.  I know Goku will be the best husband ever. I’ll do everything I can to be the perfect wife for him.”

 

Bulma doesn’t answer immediately, but Chi-Chi doesn’t need Bulma’s approval.  She can’t expect someone engaged to a man like Zarbon to understand true love.  It makes people do crazy things. Chi-Chi knows this is sudden and might come as a shock to Goku, but he’s expressed his interest in her, too.  He wants her. As long as Chi-Chi strives to make all his dreams come true, she knows Goku won’t regret this decision.

 

* * *

Lazuli knows this is crazy.  She can’t be serious about a man with no money.  She likes the finer things in life. She’s grown attached to her material possessions, the only good things her father has ever given her.  Krillin is a man blowing in the wind, subject to land wherever it takes him. Her father will strictly forbid any ideas of marriage if this gets more serious.  But it won’t. She’s only having fun with Krillin, she reminds herself. When he appears at the end of the deck, looking left and right in search of her as the sun sets on the watery horizon, Lazuli smiles.  She can’t help it. Something about his presence, his innocent smile, makes her feel warm inside. She’s so used to feeling cold.

 

“Watch it,” Lapis teases, “you’re smiling way too much.”

 

“Don’t you have somewhere else to be?”

 

“I’m your escort, remember?  What would father think if I let you wander off again?”

 

Lazuli sighs.  “Wouldn’t want you to hear it from him the way you did at the dinner party, on my account.  Thanks for covering for me.”

 

“No problem.”  Lapis looks toward Krillin, who waves a hand in the air as he nears, a faint shade of pink coating his cheeks.  “I think I’ll cover for you again. I’d rather do that than stick around to witness  _ this _ .”

 

“If Father gives you the third degree this time, you can really stick it to him.”

 

“Just be careful, Lazuli.  I think he’s onto you.”

 

When Lazuli looks at her brother, he’s walking away, looking left and right, absorbing the faces of the people around him.  He isn’t being facetious about their father being onto her. He means it. Reality is setting in of what this means for Krillin.  She knows her father is a harmless bigot as far as she’s concerned, but he’ll ruin a sweet boy like Krillin solely for being poor and interested in his daughter.  Dr. Gero doesn’t really give a damn about his children. Lazuli knows she’s another prop, a commodity Gero feels the need to protect because she’s his. When Krillin appears at her side, Lazuli’s throat tightens.  She tries to smile, but fails.

 

Krillin bounces on his toes and presses soft lips against Lazuli’s cheek.  “Hi.”

 

She smiles, in spite of herself.  If she belongs to anyone who isn’t herself, she’s Krillin’s, not Gero’s.

 

“That was very forward of you,” she drawls.

 

“Oh!” Krillin winces.  “You’re right. I should’ve asked your permission.  I’ll never do it again!”

 

“I liked it.”

 

“Oh.”  Krillin blinks and then smiles.  “Well, in that case.”

 

He bounces on his toes and kisses Lazuli’s other cheek.  She gasps, surprised by his assertiveness. She can’t believe he doesn’t back down to her.  Every boy who’s ever pursued her has been scared of her. Most blame her brother, but she knows it’s her they fear.  Krillin’s different.

 

Lazuli huffs a laugh.  “All right, so what are we doing?”

 

“I want to show you something,” Krillin says.  “Something Goku showed me here on the Shenron. It’s an amazing experience.  You’ll never forget it.”

 

“What is it?” Lazuli says, intrigued.

 

Krillin’s grin is self-satisfied.  He knows he’s enticed her. “Ever been flying?”

 

“Yes.”

 

Krillin balks.  “Huh?”

 

Lazuli quirks a smile.  She’s lying, but Krillin believing her is the cutest thing.  If he really has some way of sharing the experience of flying with her, she wants him to show her.  That would be pretty damn impressive.

 

“Let’s go,” Lazuli says, taking Krillin’s hand in hers.  “Show me how to fly, Krillin.”

 

Krillin beams, his smile so big and brilliant that he outshines the sunset.  “All right!”

 

He leads her toward the front of the ship.  Lazuli peers over the Shenron’s green iron rails at the watery landscape surrounding them.  The distant silhouette of an iceberg lurks on the horizon. Cool wind bats against her face while Krillin’s warm hand squeezes hers.  When she’s leaning out over the ocean as if flying across the Atlantic, Lazuli holds onto Krillin’s arms wrapped around her waist, deciding she doesn’t care whether this man has money.  

 

She never wants to let him go.

  
  



	6. Ahead Dead Slow

Tien grunts as he watches the rookie attempting to read the gauges in front of the boiler at Tien’s station.  He knew last night that this guy had underestimated what they do down here. Maybe now Yamcha realizes just how hard their job is.  He probably thought with a little guy like Chiaotzu doing it, it has to be easy. As Yamcha grunts and attempts to turn the hand wheel, his face turning beet-red, Tien chuckles.

 

“It’s not all strength,” Chiaotzu yells over the engine roar growing louder.  “You need to know  _ how _ to turn it!”

 

Tien takes the hand wheel from Yamcha, shoving his shoulder into him.  “Let me show you how it’s done.”

 

Tien clenches his fingers around the metal wheel and gives it a twist, putting his back into it.  Just as it starts to budge, he’s shoved from behind.

 

“I can do it,” Yamcha yells as he takes Tien’s place.

 

He turns the wheel again and it doesn't budge, same as last time.  Tien crosses his arms and shakes his head at Chiaotzu. He can see Chiaotzu is prepared to argue or take it back himself, but Tien wants to let this play out.  If this guy really wants to make an ass out of himself, Tien will let him.

 

Yamcha pauses with his white knuckles clasped around the hand wheel, looking up at Tien and flicking his gaze behind him.  “You know that guy over there has been checking you out this whole time?”

 

“Huh?”

 

“You’d think he should be looking at me,” Yamcha says, leaning casually on the wheel, “What with me being a new face down here and obviously not knowing what I’m doing.”

 

“Yeah,” Tien says, eyeing over his shoulder that same slender boy as always, whose broad chest is wrapped in layers of jackets.  “You’d think he should.”

 

“I think he fancies you, Tien,” Yamcha says, snickering as he thrusts his weight into the hand wheel, which whines as it begins to turn.  “No. I know he does.”

 

“Hey!” Chiaotzu stomps his little foot.  “Watch how you talk to Tien! He’s not interested-“

 

The boy at the next boiler grunts, but it sounds more like a growl.  Tien turns, flinching as a piston hiss accompanies the boy’s fury. The boy jumps toward them, the movement sending the newsboy cap on his head flying.  Blonde curls spring from the cap, like a cape billowing around the boy’s head. Tien’s breath catches in his throat. The boy has pretty eyelashes and pouty lips.  The boy  _ isn’t _ slender because he’s a boy.  He’s slender because he’s a woman.

 

“Oh - what?” Chiaotzu cries.

 

“Hey,” calls the foreman from a few boilers down the line, “get back to your station!  You’re going to slow the engines. You-ah!”

 

The foreman’s eyes go wide when he recognizes the boy for what he - she - really is.  As he heads to ring the bridge, most likely reporting a woman’s forbidden presence down in the boiler room, Tien can only gape at the woman glaring and smiling at him at the same time.  He had no idea all this time, ever since the Shenron’s departure, that a woman has been working beside him. She’s been watching him sweat and wear himself to exhaustion at this post. She’s been keeping up with this pace.  A sound releases from Tien’s throat, a rush of air expressing his shock. Heat rushes to his face, greater than the kilns burning at his side. She  _ can’t _ be here because of him.

 

“Hey, Tien!” the girl says, “I ain’t no boy!”

 

Tien flinches when Chiaotzu grasps his calf.  “I-I can see that.”

 

“She ain’t no boy,” Chiaotzu mutters too low for her to hear, “but what the hell is she?  No normal woman can handle working down here.”

 

“I don’t know, Chiaotzu,” Tien says, eyeing the girl warily.  “But she scares me.”

 

“The name’s Launch,” she says, thrusting a thumb between her breasts.  “I work here just the same as you do, so-“

 

“Young lady,” the foreman calls from behind, “You need to get out of here!  This is no place for a woman! It’s dangerous!”

 

“Ah, shut your trap!” she shouts over her shoulder.  “I’m talkin’ here.”

 

“Launch,” Tien says, raising defensive hands, “you might want to listen to the man.  He’s only enforcing what’s best for you.”

 

“Aw,” Launch says with a sassy primp of her curly hair, “you’re worried about my well-being, Tien?  That’s so sweet.”

 

“So what do you say?” Tien says, his brow twitching under Launch’s scrutinizing gaze.  “Wanna get out of here?”

 

“With you?”

 

Tien scoffs, laboring his breathing when he realizes it sounds like he just asked her out.  He doesn’t feel comfortable courting a woman insane enough to subject herself to the conditions in the engine room just to be next to him when he doesn’t even know her.  He shakes his head furiously. He can’t get out of here, fortunately. He doubts this girl would be willing to take no for an answer if he  _ wasn’t _ required to stay.

 

“I-I have to stay and work.  The Shenron won’t run if-“

 

“Same goes for me,” Launch says, puffing out her chest.

 

“Look,” Yamcha says, stepping forward as he sweeps his black long strands of hair from his face.  “I can take over her post. I’ve already proven I can handle it. Besides, I wouldn’t want to slack off for this whole trip and find I’ve lost my strength when we arrive in America.  I’ll consider this job training - with pay.”

 

“R-right!” Tien says.

 

He gestures to Yamcha as he meets Launch’s skeptical gaze.  He didn’t like Yamcha much before, but the guy isn’t so bad.  He’s relieving Tien of this problem, and hopefully this girl will leave the engine room now.  She seems willing to listen to Tien, for whatever reason.

 

Launch looks Yamcha up and down.  “ _ You’re _ going to keep the Shenron running?”

 

Yamcha frowns.  “Not single-handedly.”

 

“Go on, Launch,” Tien says, gesturing for the archway leading to the stairs.  “I’ll feel better knowing you’re safe out there.”  _ And not here. _

 

“Yeah, get!” Chiaotzu says, making Tien wince because now he’s pushing it.

 

Launch glares down at Chiaotzu before turning her narrowed eyes to Tien.  “Fine. I’ll leave - but only if you have dinner with me tonight.”

 

“D-dinner?”

 

“Go on, Tien,” Chiaotzu hisses over the siphoning pistons.  “It can’t hurt, right?”

 

“Are you  _ sure _ about that?” Tien mutters under his breath.  

 

He doesn’t think Chiaotzu hears him, but he doesn’t have to.  Tien doesn’t have much of a choice in the matter. The girl’s already making a scene here.  He doesn’t want this to escalate any further than it already has, and saying yes to her is the quickest way to end this.  Besides, he feels he does owe it to her, somewhat. She’s already proven her dedication to him, throwing herself into the most dangerous place on the ship for several days now just to be next to Tien.  Gulping, Tien nods. He hopes he won’t regret this.

 

“Good.” Launch shoves Yamcha’s chest, knocking him back into the hand wheel at her station.  “Then it’s settled. I’ll meet you tonight, same room where we held the party.”

 

“O-okay,” Tien says, rubbing the back of his head, feeling like all eyes are on him, even the eyes of distant workers spread throughout the boiler room.

 

Launch winks and blows him a kiss, not bothering to be secretive at all.  She turns to leave and all the people watching shift their gaze from Launch’s back to Tien’s mortified face.  His foreman scratches his head as Launch passes him, but doesn’t say another word to her.

 

Yamcha eyes the steam pouring from the open door of Launch’s boiler oven, then shoots Tien a glance.  “Good luck with that.”

 

As Yamcha’s shoulders shake, Tien suspects he’s being laughed at.  He hears Chiaotzu snickering now. He looks down to see his friend smiling toward Yamcha.  With a huff, Tien turns and taps his gauge. He cranks his hand wheel and the fire blazes. His anxiety about tonight spikes with the boiler as a new wave of heat blows over him.

* * *

“What is the problem down there, Mr. Popo?” Piccolo says.  “Why are we slowing?”

 

Mr. Popo hums, reading a note in his hand.  “It seems there was some chaos in the boiler rooms.  The foreman says it’s handled now. Would you like me to send word down there for further explanation?  Or hand down new orders?”

 

Piccolo rubs his chin.  The ship’s slowing is actually a good thing.  It may not be what he ordered, but he’s been putting demands on this speed under the duress of a man waving around his money as if he owns this ship.  Dr. Gero is no captain. He’s being ridiculous, thinking a ship this size can maintain this high speed at all hours. Especially at nighttime, keeping the engines running this hot is dangerous.

 

“Maybe not,” Piccolo says.

 

“Captain Piccolo?” Mr. Popo asks.

 

“They’ll bring it up to speed eventually, anyway.  I think the Shenron can use the slowdown, don’t you?”

 

As Piccolo turns from his view of the icy sea beyond the bow to look at him, Mr. Popo smiles.  “Yes. I think you’re right, Kami. Mr Piccolo!”

 

Piccolo smiles.  “It’s all right, Popo.”  He narrows his eyes at shards of ice scattered across the water’s surface.  “For now.”

 

Piccolo knows ships and the sea they ride on like the backs of his hands.  Right now, he doesn’t like what he’s seeing. In the dark of night, the only way to navigate through icy waters like these is to rely on the keen eyes of lookouts and to navigate carefully.  Lookouts aren’t infallible. Navigation around unseen icebergs is nearly impossible. Most ships can turn and avoid a collision at the first signs of obstruction in the path, but with a ship as massive and unprecedented as the Shenron, Piccolo suspects standard maneuvers won’t be possible.  The ship can  _ move _ fast, as Dr. Gero wants it to, but it can’t  _ turn _ fast.

 

“You’re worried about the icebergs, aren’t you?”

 

“I’m sure I’m worrying over nothing,” Piccolo lies, smiling at Mr. Popo.  “A captain does that from time to time.”

 

Mr. Popo smiles, but there is strain evident in his dark, bulbous eyes.  Piccolo turns his gaze back on the ocean. He peers across its surface for any signs of protrusions, but he knows he can’t rely on his eyes alone.  An iceberg can hide in plain sight in these waters speckled with white cresting waves. He knows he might be looking straight at one and failing to see it.  The lookouts posted in the tower above the bridge aren’t much better. They’re a precaution, not a foolproof solution.

* * *

 

In the hall outside the state rooms, Bulma is surprised by a squeal behind her.  She tenses as she turns to face her mother, who smiles, nuzzling her cheek into the furry body of a small black kitten, one of the many furry travel companions Bulma’s parents carted along on the Shenron.

 

“Oh, Bulma, dear,” she says, “where are you headed?”

 

“N-nowhere!” Bulma says, her wide eyes darting to the door of Zarbon’s state room.  “I was just-“

 

“Ohhh,” her mother says with a sly smile, while the kitten in her arms meows.  “I know what you’re doing. Don’t forget your mother was young and amorous once, too.”

 

“Mother,” Bulma says with a roll of her eyes, “I really don’t need to hear about yours and father’s courtship.”

 

Her mother’s eyes widen.  “Who said I was talking about your father?”  She winks, giving Bulma a nudge with the back of her hand.  “I can’t blame you. That Zarbon is one dashing young man. Why, if I were younger-“

 

“Mother!” Bulma hisses, her cheeks burning.  “Don’t you have somewhere to be?”

 

“No,” her mother drawls, pressing a finger to her lip, “I don’t think so.”

 

“Scratch,” Bulma says, grinning at the kitten.  “I think he could use some fresh air.”

 

“Is that true?” her mother says, directing her gaze to the kitten as if seeking his agreement, before shooting Bulma a wink.  “Is it too stuffy in here for you, Sweetness? We’ll get you outside. Bulma will want to stay right where she is.”

 

Bulma reaches toward her mother, wishing to stop her.  If her mother sees Zarbon up on deck, she’ll know something is up.  Maybe she won’t catch on, but if she recalls seeing Bulma down here, she might reveal to Zarbon exactly what Bulma doesn’t want him to know.  Bulma growls under her breath, knowing there’s nothing she can say to warn her mother, either. Even if her mother is willing to play along with Bulma breaking into her fiance’s state room to find clues of some whimsical murder plot, she won’t be able to pull off the coverup.  She’s better off thinking Bulma’s here to fool around with her roguishly handsome fiancé, an idea which, surprisingly, turns Bulma’s stomach.

 

When her mother strolls far enough down the hall that Bulma feels safe to enter the state room undetected, she takes a deep breath.  Bulma turns the knob and pushes the door open, furrowing her brow at her recent revelation. Zarbon is by far the most attractive man who’s ever proposed to her.  She’s spent nights thinking about him, reminiscing their chaste kisses with the desire for something deeper. To realize now that the thought of being intimate with that man sickens her is alarming and disconcerting.  It puzzles Bulma. She has no idea where or when this shift in attitude toward her fiancé happened. Maybe it was during one of his more controlling moments. Maybe it happened after witnessing his cruelty toward other men, or those less fortunate than they are.  All she knows for certain now, as she flicks on the lights and turns her eyes to the painted portrait of Zarbon’s handsome face hanging over the credenza, is that she feels nothing for him. 

 

Maybe this is why she’s allowed an anonymous pauper’s words to lure her into searching through her intended’s belongings.  She still can’t believe she’s doing this, but there is a part of her that believes the words of the mysterious passenger she met down below.  There is no question about what sort of man Lord Frieza is. It’s perfectly clear Zarbon associates with the earl directly, as well as Dodoria, who couldn’t be closer to the man.  Bulma knows of the hatred they spread and their disdain for the poor. Now that Zarbon looks uglier to her, no longer shielded behind his mask of beauty, she can see that he is just the same.

 

“No,” Bulma whispers to herself, moving through the room, “I need proof.  I have to know if it’s true.”

 

Zarbon has a safe he takes with him everywhere he goes, to which Bulma knows the combination. The drawers of the credenza are all closed, the top one fashioned with a keyhole, the perfect size for documents.  She determines to search the safe first, then if she finds nothing, the credenza drawers. Everything else is in plain sight. Zarbon may be cruel, but he’s not stupid. If there is information in his state room which can implicate him or Dodoria in a crime, he wouldn’t leave it lying around.  A mistake like that would cost him dearly, working for a man like Frieza.  _ Bulma _ may cost him dearly now if she uncovers anything.  But she’d rather cost him than an innocent man Lord Frieza may be plotting to murder.

 

She turns the lock of the safe, rotating it carefully to the numbers of its combination. When the lock clicks, she tugs on the square iron door, cracking the safe open.  Inside, she finds a hefty wad of billfolds. She reaches for a portfolio leaning against the tiny safe wall. Inside is the sketch of her drawn when she was in the bathtub, just before they departed on the Shenron.  In the image, shimmering bubbles surround and conceal Bulma’s moist skin like icebergs floating on the ocean’s surface, steam wafting all around her. She has fond memories of the excitement she felt while soaking and modeling in that bubble bath, waiting for her seductive gift to her fiancé to be completely rendered.  Now she wants it for herself. Her alluring look in that cast iron tub is no longer meant for Zarbon’s eyes.

 

Tucking the portfolio with the drawing under her arm, Bulma fingers through the safe.  She finds nothing. With a huff, she swings the safe door closed and turns for the credenza.  The key. She knows there is no point in wasting her time with the other drawers. The documentation of this supposed mission of Zarbon’s will definitely be in the locked drawer, unless it’s in Dodoria’s room.  Bulma winces at that thought. She can’t search Dodoria’s state room nearly as stealthily. 

 

With a deep breath, Bulma grabs the tiny brass key hanging above Zarbon’s night stand.  She knows it’s all down to this. If she finds nothing in this drawer, the man down below is alone.  She can’t help him if she doesn’t know who he is. He might be crazy. He might know nothing of Frieza and only conjured an assassination plot because he’s far too bored with his mediocre, third class steerage life.  Pursing her lips, Bulma turns the key and opens the drawer. There is a folder inside, unlabeled.

 

She pulls it out and spreads its contents across the bed.  There are receipts for this trip, notes from Dodoria, notes from Lord Frieza, and documents of which Bulma doesn’t know the nature at first glance.  She looks at these papers first. Sliding onto the bed, her dress rustling with her movements, Bulma begins to read. There are border disputes paired with newspaper clippings of assassinations of the royal family of Saiyan, all aside from one member, a Prince Vegeta.  Bulma reads over the border dispute, citing Frieza’s name in the report, as well as each member of the royal family of Saiyan. She turns to the letters from Frieza. Lord Frieza writes to Zarbon of a contract to be fulfilled. Its nature is never stated in this first letter.  

 

In the next letter, she finds hasty writing in Frieza’s hand, addressing Dodoria and Zarbon both.  He asks them to make sure it’s done before they arrive at port. He’ll be waiting to meet them. Again, the details are omitted, but Bulma knows this is in reference to the Shenron.  A recent letter. She skims past the next one, thinking it is dismissible, but she catches a glimpse of that same name again. Prince Vegeta. 

 

“Prince Vegeta?” she says as she rifles through the papers, now determined to find more information.

 

There is no way that man hidden below decks is a Prince.  He’s far from charming. Though Bulma has to admit, he does carry himself regally.  But no prince would ever subject himself to the conditions of third class living - except maybe one intent on escaping Frieza’s vehement pursuit.  An image catches Bulma’s eye. She drops the papers in a pile and gasps. Picking up the photo, Bulma presses her hands to her lips. The photo of a man in a jeweled cape and satin navy blue vestiges is no doubt the same man who nearly threatened her life below decks the night before.  Zarbon has no reason to possess a picture of that man. He has plenty of reason to have a picture of the prince of Saiyan, though, if Lord Frieza really wants him dead.

 

“Son of a bitch,” Bulma says, her breath warming and moistening her palm as she pants, “that jerk is the Prince of Saiyan.  Zarbon…”

 

Bulma shakes her head.  Recalling all at once where she is and the severity of what her discovery means, she neatly stacks the files back into the folder and deposits them in the credenza exactly as she found them.  She locks the drawer and replaces the key on the hook, gasping for air when the state room door opens in front of her, exposing her position to anyone who stands in the hall. Zarbon and Dodoria both look back at her.  Bulma glances at the keys swaying on their hook. When she looks at Zarbon and Dodoria, she doesn’t believe they’ve noticed. Zarbon’s gaze is instead fixed on the portfolio tucked beneath Bulma’s arm.

 

“Darling,” Zarbon says with a raise of his brow, “you have something for me?”

 

Bulma giggles, struggling to hide the strain behind her laugh.  “I was trying to surprise you. Did my mother give me away?”

 

“Dodoria,” Zarbon says, shooting his friend a look as if to ask him to go away.

 

Bulma seizes Zarbon by the hand.  “No, Zarbon. Not now,” she hisses, drawing close and kissing Zarbon’s cheek which feels cool enough under her lips to be reptilian.  “Dodoria knows I’m here. This wouldn’t be proper. What would society think?”

 

“Bulma,” Zarbon says in a husky growl, “since when do you care what society thinks?  And what  _ is _ that under your arm?”

 

Bulma slides past Zarbon in the doorway, emerging into the hall and turning her back on where Dodoria still lingers.  “It’s mine and you know exactly what this is. I  _ am _ thinking of what society thinks.  I think this is best kept in my possession from now on.  We need to be more careful, you and I.”

 

Zarbon studies Bulma, addressing her only after he looks like he’d come to some sort of conclusion.  “Yes. I will be more careful...from now on. I guess this is goodnight then, my dear?”

 

“Yes,” Bulma says as Zarbon kisses her hand, “goodnight, Zarbon.”  She turns reluctantly. “Goodnight, Mr. Dodoria.”

 

“Have a good evening, Miss Briefs,” Dodoria says with a bow.

 

Bulma doesn’t miss the curious exchange of looks between Zarbon and Dodoria.  She knows she didn’t completely evade their suspicion. If they ever see her with Vegeta, there will be trouble.  But she can’t leave the prince alone, knowing what she knows. Bulma feels she owes it to him to tell him of her discovery and inform him that his suspicions are correct.

 

When she thinks of seeking him out, her heart rate quickens.  She clutches her chest as she hurries down the hall to her state room, frightened of another reception like the last time she met was alone with him.  She doesn’t know what he’ll do with this information, to her or to Zarbon. 

 

Still, she feels compelled to tell him that he is right to conceal his identity.  It saddens her, thinking back on those files, the tragedy that befell Vegeta’s royal family.  She can’t imagine what she would do if her family had died all at once, leaving her alone. She would want someone at her side.  Vegeta may not know her, but she’s willing to be that someone for him, if he’ll let her.

 


	7. Trust Your Captain

Goku emerges into the sunlit deck, fanning a wad of cash in his fingers.  He’s just finished a round of poker with the guys. His winnings are fun to play with right now, but he has no idea what he’ll spend the money on.  He takes a deep breath, puffs his chest, and looks out on the water. The sun warms his face. The wind caresses his cheeks and moves through his hair.  The air smells like salt and the delicious foods the first class was recently served inside. The ocean sparkles like diamonds. Goku feels strong and healthy.  This is all he needs. Whatever this money can buy him, it’s only cream in his coffee - and he hates coffee.

 

“Hey, Mister,” a man calls to him, waving his cigarette at Goku’s money, “what are you gonna do with all that?”

 

Goku shrugs.  “I dunno.”

 

“Man,” the man says, nudging his friend sitting beside him, “I’d give my left foot for a wad of cash like that.”

 

“Wow,” Goku says, “if you want it that bad, you can have it.”

 

Goku thrusts the money into the man’s hand.  He smiles as the man’s jaw drops and his friend chokes on the smoke wafting from his cigarette.  Goku turns away, puffing his chest out again, walking a little taller. He’s glad he isn’t that slavish to money.  He also feels he’s done a good thing for someone. That man’ll make better use of the winnings than Goku would.

 

“Goku,” Yamcha says, appearing from around the corner with his eyes darting between Goku and the men he left behind.  “Did you just give them your winnings?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Goku!” Yamcha stomps his foot and glares.  “Some of that was my money!”

 

“Yeah,” Goku says with a frown, “but you gave it to me when I beat you, remember?”

 

“I know, but-“

 

“The guy seemed really happy.  You should’ve seen the look on his face.”

 

“Yeah, I’ll bet,” Yamcha says, placing his hands on his hips.  “Oh,” Yamcha looks past Goku, “here comes your girl.”

 

“My girl?” Goku says, blinking.

 

“Yeah, what’s her name?  Chi-Chi.”

 

Goku turns around, scratching his head.  His eyes light on Chi-Chi’s brilliant smile as she approaches with haste from the first class end of the ship.  Her arms are loaded, probably with more food for Goku. Goku’s throat tightens. She was a lot of fun to dance with, but that makes her  _ his _ girl?  He didn’t know that.  He wonders if  _ Chi-Chi _ knows that.

 

“Goku!” Chi-Chi says, running up to him.

 

She thrusts her armfuls of food under Goku’s nose.  It looks and smells delicious. Goku doesn’t waste a second.  He reaches for the first things his fingers touch and shoves them in his mouth.  As he chomps on savory, salty flavors of fluffy eggs and juicy bacon in his mouth, Goku beams at Chi-Chi.  She doesn’t seem to mind that he’s smiling while eating, like a lot of people mind him doing. Actually, she looks  _ extremely _ happy to see him.

 

“Thanks, Chi-Chi,” Goku says as he swallows it down and reaches for more.  

 

Chi-Chi turns the food away from him, placing it on a table beside one of the yellow benches lining the deck.  When she turns back to him, she still looks happy, but now determined also. Goku hums, surprised and bewildered by the change.

 

“Goku,” she says, glancing at Yamcha, “can I talk to you alone for a minute?”

 

“I don’t know,” Goku says, eyeing the food sitting untouched behind her.  “Chi-Chi-“

 

“I need to talk to you  _ alone _ for a minute!” Chi-Chi says, balling her fists by her sides.

 

Goku grunts and backs toward Yamcha, where it’s safe.  His friend doesn’t make a move, but Goku can tell he’s scared, too.  Chi-Chi’s mood changes faster than Goku can keep track of. He’s not going to do anything now to test her patience.  Besides, if he plays along, she’ll probably return quickly to the sweet girl he’s been getting to know.

 

“Okay, okay,” Goku says with raised hands and a smile, before throwing his arm over Chi-Chi’s shoulder.  “Where do you want to talk?”

 

“In here is fine,” Chi-Chi says softly, trembling against Goku.

 

Goku follows her through the door she indicated.  It leads them to a hall with lines of rooms and several staircases and lifts which connect the floors of rooms to the deck.  Chi-Chi looks around before darting toward the open lift. The operator smiles at them as Goku follows. When the slender male operator tips his deep green cap and asks which floor they’d like, Goku turns his eyes on Chi-Chi.

 

“Two levels down should be fine, I think,” Chi-Chi says slowly, her voice laced with doubt.

 

“Hey,” Goku says as the operator closes the folding gate and turns the crank to send them down.  “That’s  _ my _ floor, Chi-Chi.”

 

“Really?” She smiles at him, her dark eyes sparkling.  “That’s good. That’s very good.” She turns to the operator.  “Thank you, Sir.”

 

The operator eyes her.  “Are you sure you want to be down here, Miss?  Third class residency is no place for our more refined passengers,” he says as he sneers at Goku.  “You’re better off upstairs.”

 

“I’ll decide where I’m better off,” Chi-Chi growls at him, instantly making the man tremble.  Goku can’t blame him. “Now come on, Goku.”

 

Chi-Chi tugs Goku by the hand.  As he stumbles after her, it occurs to him that maybe he’s in trouble.  Maybe this talk isn’t going to be a good thing for him at all. Maybe she noticed the way he stared at her chest while they were dancing the other night and she’s going to let him have it now.

 

“Uh...Chi-Chi?” Goku says as they whirl around the corner into a vacant hall, just feet away from his door.  “I’m sorry.”

 

“Sorry?” Chi-Chi says, furrowing her brows.  “For what?”

 

“I...don’t know.”

 

“Goku,” Chi-Chi says with a smile, caressing Goku’s cheek, “I...have something to tell you.”

 

A child squeals, the tiny voice bouncing off the metal walls of the hall.  Goku watches Chi-Chi wince at the piercing sound before the child bumps into her, knocking her into Goku.  

 

As an older girl runs after the child now disappearing around the corner, Chi-Chi huffs.  “Is there anywhere more private, where we can talk?”

 

“We can talk in my room,” Goku says, pointing to the door.  “Krillin and Yamcha won’t be here until nighttime. It’s a little dirty and cramped, though.”

 

“Oh, I don’t mind!” Chi-Chi says, clapping her hands together and beaming.  “Let’s go.”

 

Goku takes three long steps and he’s in front of his door.  He pulls his key from his pocket and unlocks the door, feeling surprisingly guilty about this.  He doesn’t know why, but he feels like he’s doing something forbidden. He’s let plenty of people into his room during his time on this ship, as well as other places, but letting Chi-Chi into his room feels different.  His heart starts racing as he steps through the door with her.

 

Chi-Chi closes the door and turns her back to it, facing Goku with a rosy glow to her cheeks.  Her chest heaves ever so slightly, enough for Goku to notice the softness of her glowing skin and wish to see - possibly feel - more of it.  He thinks maybe she feels the tension, too, and this is why her breathing seems erratic. But maybe the tension is all in Goku’s head.

 

“I had a talk with my father,” Chi-Chi says, sucking in a deep breath before speaking in such a rush that Goku at first hears her words as one, “he-saw-us-together-and-I’m-sorry-but-he-thinks-we’re-getting-married.”

 

“He - what?”

 

“I understand if you’re upset, but I-“

 

“He thinks we’re getting married?”

 

“Mm-hm,” Chi-Chi says with a fervent nod, her lips pressed together as if she’s keeping herself from exploding.  “Oh, you must think I’m-“

 

“Do you  _ wanna _ marry me?”

 

It’s the first question that pops into Goku’s head.  He isn’t upset with Chi-Chi in any way. He doesn’t need to know whether her father is happy or angry about the prospect of his teenage daughter marrying a poor man to whom he’s never been introduced.  Goku’s curiosity is genuinely sparked. All that matters to him now is whether Chi-Chi wants this, or it’s just her father’s desire.

 

“W-well, I,” Chi-Chi says, twiddling her fingers and averting her eyes from Goku’s beseeching gaze, “I think this could be a good thing...don’t you?”

 

“Sure,” Goku says without a second thought, taking Chi-Chi’s warm hands in his.  “To be honest, I never thought about marriage before. Never thought about girls much, either.  But you…”

 

Goku’s throat tightens.  He doesn’t know exactly what he’s about to say, but again, he feels like he’s stumbling into forbidden territory.  He subconsciously squeezes his fingers around Chi-Chi’s until she squeezes back and pulls him into her.

 

As her face draws close, Goku looks into her shining dark eyes and releases a shuddering exhale.  “You’re...different, Chi-Chi.”

 

“Goku,” Chi-Chi says, drawing their intertwined hands to her breast, “I promise you I’ll be the perfect wife.  When we arrive in America, I’ll make you happy, we-“

 

Goku moves before he knows what he’s doing.  Chi-Chi’s words are cut off when his lips crush against hers.  His lips burn and tingle all at once, relishing in the softness of Chi-Chi’s lips.  He isn’t any more prepared for the onslaught of her response than he was for his original action.  When Chi-Chi’s hands claw at his chest and her body presses against him, Goku nearly chokes and falls backwards.  Chi-Chi’s tongue invades his mouth. It feels strange, but it also feels too good for him to want to stop her. The contact from her lips and her soft hands caressing him feel better than any sensations he’s ever felt before.  It makes something stir inside him, like a tightness in his stomach.  Goku backs into his bed, his legs hitting the metal frame before he stumbles backward. He hits the back of his head on the base of the top bunk on his way down.

 

“Ow!” Goku cries as his head throbs.

 

Chi-Chi falls on him, landing on the mattress more gracefully than he does.  “Are you okay?”

 

Goku winces while Chi-Chi’s hands scramble over his head in search of injury.  He’s about to complain, but when she wiggles against him, their bodies pressing together, Goku feels something very different - and pleasing.  He settles on moaning.  Chi-Chi’s hands move from Goku’s scalp down his neck and chest, softly, as if she knows what he's thinking. She knows Goku wants her to keep going.

 

“Chi-Chi,” Goku breathes, feeling like he should stop her, but wanting her to continue.

 

“I..I guess we’re practically married already,” Chi-Chi says, licking her lips as she shrugs, “right?”

 

“Right,” Goku says, grabbing Chi-Chi by the wrist and placing her hand exactly where he wants it, his patience at its end and his growing desire in need of attention.  Chi-Chi’s warm palm presses where the pressure’s been building, giving him a taste of the relief he craves.  “I want you to be my bride.”

 

“Goku!” Chi-Chi says, her face flushing red as she looks down at her hand.  “I-I think I love you.”

She leans down and kisses him again, before in the privacy of his quaint room, she introduces Goku to sensations even greater than those of her kisses and caresses.  He isn’t sure about love, but he knows he feels  _ something _ special for this girl like he’s never felt for anyone else.  He knows he’ll never feel this way about anyone else again. He won’t let anything bad happen to Chi-Chi.  He’s prepared to protect this girl, his bride with his life from now on.

* * *

The pounding of a door bursting open behind him doesn’t stir Piccolo from his tranquil state.  He peers over the rounded handles jutting from the wheel’s round surface, out to the open ocean.  The sky is a technicolor landscape of billowing clouds. Darkness will fall again soon. It is time for him and his crew to keep their wits about them.

 

“Mr. Dende?” Mr. Popo says at Piccolo’s back.

 

“I hope you don’t mind my intrusion,” Mr. Dende says, his voice lingering at the doorway rather than coming closer.  “I know how the captain runs a tight ship here, but I was-“

 

“Come in, Mr. Dende,” Piccolo says, keeping his gaze locked on the pinks and oranges of the sky.  “It’s your ship. You have every right to intrude on the way it’s being ran, if you so desire.”

 

Dende appears at Piccolo’s side, sliding his hand along the counter lining the wall of the bridge.  “I did design this ship, Captain, but it certainly isn’t mine. It belongs to every passenger on board as much as it belongs to me.”

 

“So,” Piccolo says with a twitch of his brow, “what is your concern?”

 

“How do you know I have concerns?” Dende says, his face looking astonished as he turns to face Piccolo.  Piccolo’s knowing smile is enough to encourage the younger man to continue. “I feel some responsibility for the souls onboard, seeing that I  _ am _ responsible for the Shenron’s architecture.  There are certain aspects of its final plans that do not sit right with me.”

 

Piccolo nods.  “The lifeboats.”

 

“Yes,” Dende says with a gulp, his wary gaze panning across the other crew members gathered in the bridge.  “I hear from Mr. Korin in the crow’s nest that your lookouts are spying larger icebergs more often out in these parts.”

 

“Our lookouts are only doing their jobs,” Piccolo says, containing a growl as he decides to have a word with Mr. Korin and Mr. Yajirobe about discretion later.  “There is no need for them to worry you or any other passengers.”

 

“So you  _ don’t _ feel the Shenron is in any danger?” Dende says.  “It’s moving at a speed I did not anticipate in its design.”

 

“I feel you’re worrying about something outside of your control,” Piccolo says, clenching the smooth rounded handles in his grasp.  “Let me worry about the icebergs,  _ you _ worry about preventing greedy men like Gero and the other investors from getting their hands on the next ship you design.”

 

Dende lowers his head.  “Yes, you’re right, Captain Piccolo.”

 

“Don’t fret, Mr. Dende,” Mr. Popo says jovially, patting the downtrodden young man’s shoulder.  “You can trust Captain Piccolo to take us to America safely. He’s the best captain these waters have ever seen.  I’ll stand by his side to the very end.”

 

As Popo looks up, smiling at Piccolo with the utmost sincerity in his eyes, Piccolo feels his chest clench.  He turns away, having no time for sentimental nonsense. He has a ship to control. Icebergs to navigate. Lookouts to scold.  He can let the architect leave the bridge with his reassuring illusions, but Piccolo has no illusions. The danger on these icy waters is tangible in his every waking moment.  He’s barely slept these past few nights.

 

* * *

Vegeta is starving.  He’s going to the first class dining room to find himself a real breakfast.  He doesn’t care anymore about the risk. 

 

Nappa trails into the lift after him before the accordioned door slides closed. “Vegeta.”

 

“Bring us up top,” Vegeta tells the operator, snapping him a glare when he doesn’t instantly comply.  “Now.”

 

“Vegeta,” Nappa repeats while the lift rattles and pulls them up, “what are we going to do up there if we run into  _ them _ ?”

 

“Those two idiots have no idea we’re here, Nappa.  We just stick to outsmarting them.”

 

“But what if-“

 

“Do you want to eat or  _ not _ ?” Vegeta asks as the lift creaks and quivers to a stop.

 

“Just be careful, Vegeta,” Nappa says as they step past the operator to emerge into the hall.  “It’s  _ your _ face they’re looking for, not mine.”

 

Vegeta is well aware of Zarbon and Dodoria looking for his face.  They certainly wouldn’t look for Nappa. As Vegeta rounds the corner in search of the hall leading to the dining room, he’s prepared with a snide remark about Nappa’s ugly mug.  Before he can say anything, something crashes into him.

 

Vegeta stumbles back with a grunt as someone else does the same.  The man with whom he’s collided bounces right back, his oversized belly taking the brunt of the impact.  When Vegeta shakes it off, he is shocked to see the face staring back at him. Dodoria’s face.

 

“Oh, shit,” Nappa murmurs as the fat henchmen’s eyes gleam with recognition.  “Prince Vegeta, run!”

 

“Idiot!” Vegeta snarls as he shoves Dodoria aside and sprints down the hall.  “You didn’t have to say my name!”

 

With his arms swinging at his sides and his legs moving faster than humanly possibly, Vegeta evades the footsteps storming after him.  He knew it was bound to come to this. He can’t make it to America altercation-free, which, come to think of it, suits him better than remaining hidden.  Grunting to himself, Vegeta stops. He turns to smirk at the oversized bastard barreling down the hall at an unstoppable pace. Dodoria's eyes bulge. Vegeta sticks an arm out and clotheslines the man.  Dodoria drops like a stone. As Nappa skids to a halt behind him, Vegeta shoves his boot on top of Dodoria’s head. He’s going to crush the bastard before he can even think of laying a hand on Vegeta.

 

Dodoria screams.  “Let me go, you bastard!”

 

“Nappa,” Vegeta says, glancing side to side as he realizes he, being a third class nobody dressed in rags, is not going to be treated well if caught in this predicament with Lord Frieza’s ambassador.  “Get him out of my face!”

 

“W-where?” Nappa says.

 

“Stuff him in a closet somewhere!”

 

When Nappa bends over Dodoria and pulls his fist back, Dodoria ducks aside.  Vegeta grunts and doubles back as Nappa punches the ground and Dodoria hits Nappa’s exposed chin with an uppercut.  Dodoria whirls on Vegeta. Vegeta raises his fists.

 

“Hey!” a woman calls from the end of the hall.  “What are you people-“ she gasps.

 

Vegeta scoffs, having no intention of humoring his audience.  The woman needs to go back into her fancy room and mind her own damn business, or she’s going to end up just like Dodoria.  Vegeta yells and throws his fist at Dodoria’s pockmarked face. Pain shoots through his fist and down his arm as bone crunches against bone.  Dodoria screams as he falls. 

 

“Stop!” the woman yells. “I’ll ring for the officer!  You... _ you _ !”

 

Vegeta’s eyes widen.  That second ‘you’ is expressed in a tone of recognition and in a voice Vegeta recognizes now.  He turns slowly, shooting a glare down the hall. The woman he last saw outside that party clings to a state room door, her updo accentuated by sweeping curls around her face, her red chiffon dress sweeping the floor.  She’s engaged to the only friend of this man Vegeta’s attacking and probably doesn’t believe his story, so who knows what she’s thinking now. She stares back at Vegeta, bewildered, possibly frightened. Her blue eyes narrow and she steps forward.  No,  _ not _ frightened.

 

“I have been looking  _ all over _ this ship for you,  _ Prince Vegeta _ .”

 

Vegeta balks.  “What?”

 

“Zarbon and,” she says before her eyes bulge and she points a finger, “Dodoria!  Vegeta, look out!”

 

“Vegeta!” Nappa warns, too late.

 

With a grunt, Vegeta turns.  A force collides with his legs, knocking him on his back.  His teeth bang together when he collides with the ground, his head bouncing off the tiles.  The woman’s cry rings through the hall. Vegeta feels Nappa’s hands clutching at him, struggling to help Vegeta up.  Dodoria’s rancorous breath fans at Vegeta’s face while he looses a gravelly chuckle.

 

“Looks like I get to kill you after all, your highness!” Dodoria says.

 

“Vegeta!” Nappa calls.  “Get down!”

 

Vegeta is already as down as he can get, with his limbs splayed across the floor and a heavy man’s weight bearing down on him.  He doesn’t know if Dodoria’s frantic movements are a result of scrambling for a weapon or maneuvering himself into a position where he can strangle Vegeta while saving himself from Nappa. What Vegeta does know is, there is no way in hell he’s going down this way.  The prince of Saiyan won’t die at the hands of an underling of a creep like Lord Frieza. 

 

Baring his teeth, Vegeta writhes against the pressure of Dodoria’s weight and pushes off the hard tile to face him.  Something slides across the tiles at the same time, scratching against the porcelain until it hits Vegeta’s hand. He knows the instant he feels the cold metal curve against his skin that it’s a gun.  He reaches and curls his fingers around it as Dodoria’s massive palms bear down on him, coming at his face. Vegeta finds the trigger and places the gun in the opening between Dodoria’s hands, aiming right between his eyes.

 

“Wait!” the woman cries.

 

He shoots.

 

The explosion of gunfire rattles the hallway.  Vegeta’s ears ring as Dodoria’s dying corpse falls, consuming him.  Vegeta’s heart pounds. People will come running. Gunfire in the first class halls will not be something the authorities hesitate to investigate.  He needs to escape this scene as quickly as possible. He feels the crushing pressure removed as Nappa comes to his aid, pulling the still-warm, bleeding body off of him.

 

“Nappa!” Vegeta hisses as he clambers to his elbows.  “Get rid of it!”

 

“It?  Oh God!”  The witness.

 

As Nappa pries the body off him, Vegeta whirls toward her, springing to his feet.  The gun is still in his hand, the witness to this crime ducking into her room, staring straight at him.  He hears hurried footsteps on the other side of the door at the end of the hall. 

 

The woman claws at her door, desperate to close it.  “I can’t be any part of this!”

 

Vegeta runs at her, barreling into her door before she closes it completely.  As she moans in protest, Vegeta shoves his foot through it, intent on not being left out in this hall when the authorities storm in.  He sees in his peripherals that Nappa has already ditched the body in a vacant room. Nappa runs out of his view. 

 

Vegeta pounds his fist on the woman’s door.  The solid wood rattles against his face. “Let me in!”

 

“You-you just killed a man!”

 

“I can kill a  _ woman _ , too!” Vegeta snaps, alarmed when he hears other voices in the hall.  

 

“Oh,  _ that’s _ going to make me let you in here,” the woman snarls from the other side of the door.  “Threaten me some more.”

 

Vegeta growls, throwing his shoulder into the door, but the woman is wedged behind it.  “You -“ he cuts off his threat, recalling her addressing him by his title moments ago, “you know who I am.  You know if I’m taken by the master at arms and unable to defend myself, Zarbon is going to finish what Dodoria started.  If I die, it’ll be  _ your _ fault.”

 

“Dammit,” the woman hisses.

 

“They’re here!” Vegeta says, glancing over his shoulder at the men running to the bloody spots on the floor and walls.

 

Vegeta is seized by the lapel of his collar.  He lets her tug him through the door as he breathes a sigh of relief.  Not one of them seems to have looked up and seen him. He was so exposed, vulnerable to the perceptive, tall and intimidating master at arms, until  _ she _ pulled him into her sanctuary.

 

“There, fine,” she says, heaving a breath as she pats herself down.  “I did my part.”

 

“It’s not over yet,” Vegeta says, pressing his ear to the door, listening to the murmurs of investigation.  “They’ll begin knocking on doors soon, looking for witnesses who might’ve heard anything.”

 

“Or  _ saw _ anything!” the woman gasps.

 

“You  _ didn’t _ see anything.”

 

“Oh my God, Vegeta.  If Zarbon finds out about this, what do you think he’s going to do to me?”

 

“I’d say the engagement’s off,” Vegeta chuckles.

 

“Why does Lord Frieza want you dead?” the woman asks, her watery eyes meeting Vegeta’s.  “I mean, your entire family-“

 

“Power,” Vegeta says.  “All that matters is power.”

 

“To him.”

 

Vegeta gives her a hard stare.  “It’s  _ all _ that matters.”

 

“You don’t believe that.”

 

Her blue eyes look so soft, yet she seems to see through him.  Vegeta’s lungs freeze, as if she’s stolen the air from him with that look and pointed statement.  She can’t possibly know him better than he knows himself. She only just learned his name and true identity, likely by betraying the man entrusting her right now, Vegeta’s enemy.  Vegeta gulps, preparing to tell her how little she knows, when there is a knock at the door.

 

“Police,” the muffled voice says, “sorry to disturb you, but we need to question you about the disturbance.”

 

Vegeta grits his teeth, preparing for a fight.  He knows once they see him,dressed as he is, they’ll pin him for the attacker.  He’s not going down easily if they try to take him in for killing that fat bastard.  As Vegeta reaches for the doorknob, the woman places her hand lightly on his chest. Her touch has the effect of a drug, the warmth and gentleness calming his pounding heart.

 

She gives him a wink.  “Let me handle this.”

 

Vegeta is in awe, watching her shine a brilliant smile on the officer while he remains hidden behind the wall.  She spins a tale so elegantly, Vegeta almost believes that she was startled by the noise, ran out to find the blood, and ran back inside, scared for her safety.  He knows she is alone as she claims, aside from himself lingering behind the wall. He could easily attack her once the officer is gone, but she protects him. He doesn’t understand her.  She could just as easily expose him, but in choosing not to, she has earned a degree of bewildered trust from Vegeta. That’s more trust than anyone on this ship, maybe even Nappa, has. And Vegeta doesn’t even know her name.

 

When she closes the door on the satisfied officer, Vegeta meets her gaze.  “What’s your name?”

 

“Bulma,” she says, her cheeks flushing a soft pink, “Bulma Briefs.”

 

“You already know my name.”

 

“Yes,” she says with a sly grin, looking Vegeta up and down.  “Yes, I do. You’re in a heap of trouble, Prince Vegeta.”

 

“It’s nothing I can’t handle,” Vegeta says stubbornly.

 

“You don’t have to handle it alone.”

 

Vegeta meets her gaze, which seems to ask something of him, but her reminder of his troubles has his mind back on Nappa and the investigation into Dodoria’s death, and the man likely to return to this very state room, intent on killing Vegeta.  He brushes past Bulma without another word and opens the door. He needs to find Nappa. He needs to keep his head low more than he needs to entangle himself with some crafty woman residing in the lion’s den.


	8. Veering Off Course

Krillin has to find Lazuli.  After breakfast, Chi-Chi arrived, telling them of a chaotic disruption in the first class halls.  Between bouts of giggling and flirting with Goku, as if gunplay and a murder aboard the Shenron were  _ not _ dangers warranting her concern, Chi-Chi divulged to them how Officer Cell has yet to find the gun-wielding suspect, though the victim was identified as a first class passenger traveling alone.  The traveling alone part reassures Krillin. It can’t be Lazuli or her brother. But the murderer is still out there. He’s on this ship, apparently targeting first class passengers, which means Lazuli might be in danger.

 

Krillin brushes past the first class beauty who first caught his eye aboard this ship, a woman who now watches the frightening, unapproachable pair of men he recognizes from steerage.  He shakes his head at Bulma, but whatever problem has her concentrating on those men, it’s not his problem. He needs to see the woman he  _ now _ considers the most beautiful girl on this ship.  He needs to see her smiling, or at least looking well.  Krillin perches a hand over his forehead, shielding his eyes from the gleaming noon sunlight beating down on him with warmth to counter the ocean’s cold.  

 

When he catches sight of Lapis Gero setting his foot on the Shenron’s green railing and casually looking out on the open ocean, Krillin gasps.  Lazuli has to be nearby. One glance to the left confirms it. She is with Lapis, dressed in an elegant yellow gown, rolling her blue eyes at an older man.  The older man scowls at Lazuli and Lapis as he strokes his white mustache. Krillin bites his lip as he nears them. He knows this must be Lazuli’s father, the man she and her twin brother loathe. But Krillin also knows things are going too well between him and Lazuli to back down now.  He either has to walk away from her forever, or face her father eventually. Walking away from Lazuli is not an option.

 

“Hi,” Krillin calls, his voice faltering and betraying his confidence when the three Geros turn to look at him, “L-Lazuli!”

 

“Hi,” Lapis says with a dismissive wave before turning his piercing eyes back out on the shimmering water.

 

“Krillin!” Lazuli says, sauntering over to him with pronounced enthusiasm before sending her father a look over her shoulder.  “I’m so glad to see you again.”

 

“I’m glad you’re all right,” Krillin says, sighing at her touch when Lazuli’s hands land on his shoulder, in spite of the fact that he knows she’s putting on an act to anger her father.  “I came to check on you.”

 

“Check on  _ me _ ?” Lazuli sounds genuinely shocked.

 

When she stoops down and searches Krillin’s eyes, Krillin smiles.  He really is relieved to see her. It doesn’t bother him how obvious he may look, or that he sees Lapis rolling his eyes in his peripheral view.  He doesn’t need to hide from Lazuli the fact that he cares.

 

“Lazuli, Lapis,” the old man says.  “Aren’t you going to introduce me?”

 

“Krillin, Dr. Gero,” Lazuli snaps with a curt gesture to indicate the old man.  “Father, this is Krillin.”

 

“Krillin of the…” Dr. Gero knits his brows as he slowly extends his bony hand, “I’m sorry, what is your family name?”

 

“It...doesn’t matter,” Krillin says, giving the old man’s cold hand a curt shake, before recoiling his hand back to his side.

 

“Oh, but it does matter,” Lapis says with a sarcastic drawl, leaning off the railings, “unless you can whip out a heap of cash and prove it to him  _ that _ way, Krillin.”

 

“Shut up,” Lazuli says, scowling at the way Krillin grimaces under Dr. Gero’s hateful glare.

 

“I’m just informing your boyfriend on the ways of the first class,” Lapis says.

 

“Boyfriend?” Dr. Gero snaps.  “Lazuli! Haven’t I already forbid you from associating with this trash?”

 

“No,” Lazuli says coolly, folding her arms across her breasts. “You forbade me associating with trash in general.”

 

“Lazuli,” Dr. Gero growls, “I am in no mood for your rebellion.  It’s time you act like a lady! You’re Eighteen!”

 

Lazuli scoffs.  She takes Krillin by the hand.  “Come on, Krillin. Let’s go somewhere.”

 

“Have fun,” Lapis says dryly as Krillin brushes past him, pulled by Lazuli.

 

“Lazuli!” Dr. Gero calls.

 

Lazuli ignores him as Krillin stumbles past the old man, who Krillin half-suspects of being the first class gunman, who will now claim Krillin as his second victim.  He feels nothing more than a rustle in his coat pockets as he passes. His wary gaze never leaves the old man until he is out of sight, Lazuli rounding a corner and taking him with her.  Krillin feels like a prop, merely being used as a pawn in Lazuli’s game of rebellion, until he recalls the way she looked at him last night. He coils his fingers around hers, and the way she squeezes his palm is reassuring.

* * *

Something strange is happening.  Lapis knows when his father is scheming.  He recognizes that grin on his whiskered upper lip.  Lapis pushes off the iron rails of the Shenron, turning to his father.  The old man looks after Lazuli and Krillin, wearing a devious smile. 

 

Lapis hums.  “What did you just do?”

 

“What?”

 

“I know you did something to them.  What is it?”

 

“You think  _ you’re _ going to stop me?”

 

“Who said anything about stopping you?”

 

“Okay,” his father drawls, narrowing his eyes.  “All you need to know is, your sister won’t taint our bloodline with that piece of genetic garbage, not after today.”

 

“Because…?”

 

His father sniffs.  “Officer Cell will take care of him.”

 

Lapis purses his lips as he watches his father raise his hook nose in the air and walk away.  Something bad is going to happen. Lapis isn’t exactly invested in helping Krillin, but he isn’t blind, either.  He can see how much his sister likes this guy. She’s never developed such a soft spot for someone. Groaning, Lapis runs his fingers through his smooth hair.  He’s going to have to find them now and warn them, before Officer Cell reaches them. He sees the officer now, talking to his father. The man with enough genius to construct the devices powering this ship’s unprecedented engine actually believes he has that powerful officer in his pocket.  Lapis can see the tall, green-suited man is full of himself, and interested in what Dr. Gero tells him now solely for his own benefit. He wants to take someone in. He’s going to target Lazuli’s boy toy.

 

“You’d better thank me for this later, Laz,” Lapis murmurs as he turns from Lazuli and Krillin to stalk after the officer.  “I'll have to kick an authority figure’s ass if I find proof he’s messing with my sister.   I just  might be the one in cuffs tonight instead of Krillin.”

 

He smiles as he picks up his pace, careful not to lose Officer Cell’s trail.  Lapis might be doing this out of favor for Lazuli, but he can’t help being excited.  He kind of hopes his investigation does turn up something.

* * *

On his way back from the engine room, Tien collides with a man in a swanky suit hurrying in the opposite direction.  Tien glances over his shoulder to see the dark-haired young man pursuing the trail of the officer whom Tien and Chiaotzu passed coming out of the engine rooms.  

 

Tien sneers at the thought of the master at arms.  That officer rubbed him the wrong way in their brief encounter.  Tien could tell by the look in his eyes that he was willing to bust Tien and Chiaotzu both, simply for existing and being the underpaid workers they are.  Fortunately for them, the officer seemed busy with pursuing someone else at the time. At least Tien has the satisfaction of knowing he stymied the officer’s pursuit by shoving that cart in his path.  The look on the officer’s face was worth whatever punishment might be in store for Tien later. He hopes whatever this other guy is doing is meant to cause the officer complications, too.

 

“Jerk!” Chiaotzu yells after the man who brushed past Tien with no apology.

 

“It’s all right, Chiaotzu,” Tien says with a grin, turning his gaze to the sky as they emerge from the indoors into the blinding sunlight on deck.  “I’m really not worried about him.”

 

Tien’s smile falters.  He hangs his head. The day will come to an end soon.  He is almost due for his dinner date with the crazy girl from the boiler room.  He has no idea how this will go, but he’s far more frightened by the prospect of this date than he can possibly be excited.  Sure, the girl has lovely blonde hair, which somehow manages to shine and flow like silk when set free in the humid and dank boiler room.  She has a pretty smile, too. But Tien has been working next to her for a couple of days now, not knowing she had any real interest in him.  It’s like being spied upon. It’s like she isn’t really a woman, but a predator who’s caught him.

 

“Tien,” Chiaotzu says slowly as they walk, “do you want me to come with you tonight?  You never agreed to meet her alone.”

 

Tien groans and rubs his bald, sweat-dampened head.  He feels his pride obligates him to go this alone, but he feels that is a terrible idea.  He has no idea how far this woman is willing to go. If she’s capable of dressing as a man to work beside him in the boiler rooms, she’s capable of anything.

 

“Are you talking about Launch?” says a man approaching them from behind.  “Of course you’re going to meet her alone!”

 

Tien groans.  “Yamcha.”

 

“You have a  _ date _ tonight, Tien,” Yamcha says, giving Tien a firm glare.  “You can’t weasel your way out of that. You should go! Enjoy it!”

 

“Easy for you to say,” Chiaotzu murmurs.

 

Yamcha frowns down at him.  “Not as easy as you think.”

 

Tien shakes his head.  Both of his companions seem to forget the fact that this girl seems insane.  Chiaotzu only offers to be there because he thinks Tien is nervous. Yamcha is actually encouraging him to go. This is a mess.  He doesn’t need Yamcha’s input anyway.

 

“Yamcha,” Tien says, tightening his fists, “aren’t you on your way down to the engine rooms?”

 

“Yeah.  My shift’s starting now,” Yamcha says with a smile, before rubbing his head.  “But uh...which way is it again?”

 

“ _ That _ door!” Chiaotzu says, pointing to the door barely remaining in sight from the distance they’ve walked.

 

“Oh!” Yamcha turns and rubs his head.

 

“Hey, Yamcha,” Tien says.  “Be careful down there. The engine rooms can be dangerous when you don’t know your way around.”

 

Yamcha smirks.  “I think I can handle it.  Besides, I might say the same for  _ you _ , Tien.  Good luck on that date!”

 

Tien whimpers.  He winces at the thought of seeing Launch.  He has no idea what to expect from her, and that scares him.  He does have more reason to worry than Yamcha does. He’s going to need all the luck he can get.  But he doesn’t need Chiaotzu, not for this. He needs to do this alone.

 

Tien bends on one knee, placing his hands on Chiaotzu’s shoulders as he looks his friend in the eyes.  “Chiaotzu, you go down to steerage. Relax. Have a nice dinner, and I’ll catch up with you as soon as I’m done with this.”

 

Chiaotzu gasps.  “You’re actually going through with this?”

 

“Just for tonight,” Tien says, standing upright.  “I’m not going to get serious about the girl. In case you haven’t noticed, she’s-“

 

“Tien!” 

 

Tien’s eyes bulge at the sound of Launch’s husky voice.  She sounds like she’s pleased to see him, but then she also sounds like she might be yelling at him.  He hopes she doesn’t realize he was just about to call her crazy. Slowly, Tien turns to face her.

 

Chiaotzu pats his calf.  “Good luck. See you after dinner.”

 

“Wait!” Tien looks down at himself, soot still staining his clothes, which are soaked with sweat and smell of it, too.  “N-now?”

 

Launch nudges his shoulder and shoots him a playful smirk.  “Now’s as good a time as any. Besides, I like you dirty.”

 

Tien’s cheeks grow hot.  “Is that why you were stalking me in the engine rooms?”

 

“Hey, I just like ya, Tien,” Launch says, sending him a radiant smile.  “But if that makes you uncomfortable-“

 

“No,” Tien says with a sigh, unable to be cruel to the softening look on Launch's face.  “No, it’s okay. Let’s have dinner.”

 

“Good. Because I wasn’t going to back down for anything.  You’re mine now, Tien.”

 

Tien groans.  As Launch snaps her fingers at the nearest crew member and starts demanding a table be set up for them right here on the deck, Tien fully regrets his moment of mercy.  She’s taking full advantage of it. He’ll probably never be rid of her.

 

“Excuse me,” a soft-spoken voice says, drawing Tien’s gaze away from Launch’s gloating smile.  “Did either of you hear about the disturbance in first class this morning?”

 

Launch shakes her fist at the kind young man who designed this ship.  “Disturbance? There’s about to be a disturbance on this deck!”

 

“Launch,” Tien hisses, “let him speak.  What disturbance, Mr….Dende, is it?” Mr.Dende nods.  “I’ve been in the engine rooms all day.”

 

Mr. Dende sighs. “Then you wouldn’t have heard.”

 

“ _ There’s _ an officer!” Launch says, pointing out Officer Cell, who approaches them with a scowl.  “Ask  _ him _ !”

 

“Officer Cell!” Dende says, stopping the officer before he storms past them.  “Is it true that someone fired a gun on this ship?”

 

“A first class passenger was murdered,” Cell says with a curt nod, glancing at Tien.  “But don’t worry. I’ll find out who did it.”

 

“Then don’t let me deter your investigation,” Dende says, waving Cell on.

 

“I’m not investigating that now,” Cell says.  “I’m looking into a robbery.”

 

“Robbery?” Dende gasps.

 

“Dr. Gero’s reported one of his inventions stolen, a one-of-a-kind patented device.  I already have a suspect.”

 

“Excuse me for sounding ignorant,” Dende says, pressing his hands together.  “I’m no lawman, but wouldn’t the murder investigation take precedence over the robbery?  I’d feel much more comfortable knowing there’s no longer a murderer on the loose than I’ll be comforted by your arrest of a thief.”

 

“Dr. Gero is a very important man on this ship, Mr. Dende,” Cell says with a smile.  “He wants this thief apprehended at once, and I believe I know who it is. It shouldn’t take long to lock him up and return my attentions to the murderer, who I'll catch, too. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

 

As Cell turns away, Mr. Dende massages his forehead.  He looks deeply disturbed, as if there must be more than a theft and murder bothering him.  Perhaps he was close to the murdered man. As Dende turns his wise-beyond-their-years eyes on him, Tien frowns, noting a tinge of green in the man’s skin.  Maybe he’s a little seasick. More likely though, Tien thinks something far more serious has sickened the young man.

 

“Are you okay, Mr. Dende?” Tien says, placing a hand on the man’s trembling shoulder.

 

“Of course he is!” Launch says, snatching Tien’s hand from Dende’s shoulder and placing it in her hands.  “Come on now, Tien. It’s time we start our date.”

 

Turn frowns as he watches Mr. Dende’s gaze drift off to the darkening sea.  The sun is setting now, casting an ethereal glow around the young man’s silhouette.  Mr. Dende is definitely bothered. This doesn’t sit well with Tien. But for now, he has to humor Launch.  He’s agreed to this date and now has to see it through. He looks at Launch and forces a smile.

 

She loops her arm through his, her gaze softening and her smile lighting her pretty face.  “Okay,” she says.

 

Tien’s smile comes easy now.  Launch might not be so bad. When she looks at him this way, when she’s disguise-free and calm as she is now, Tien can see past her abrasiveness.  He will enjoy his dinner, not that he expects to go anywhere serious with Launch, but because he sees virtue in her for the moment. After all, he’s flattered.  He’s never had a person so intently fixated on  _ him _ .  He would like to learn more about the lady who so vehemently desires his company.

 

“Launch,” Tien says, “thank you for asking me to dinner.”

 

“The pleasure’s all mine, Sugar,” Launch says.

 

Tien suspects this is the absolute truth.  Launch smiles at him as if she’s never been happier in her life, and will never be happier again than she is in this moment.


	9. All Hands

Chi-Chi hurries through the interior halls, searching for the lift which will take her down to Goku’s quarters.  She smiles when she spies the lift operator letting off a well-dressed couple just coming from dinner. She recognizes them as Dr. and Mrs. Briefs when she comes nearer, not only for their faces, but for the shaggy white puppy peeking out of Mrs. Briefs’ shoulder bag, wagging its bushy tail behind her hip.  Chi-Chi watches them leave without sparing her a glance and sighs as she turns her eye on the operator, beams at him, and nods toward the elevator controls. She can hardly contain her excitement.

 

“Chi-Chi!”

 

Chi-Chi braces a hand on the lift’s frame as she turns at the sudden call.  “Bulma?”

 

“Have you seen Zarbon?”

 

“No, sorry,” Chi-Chi says, stepping into the lift.  Expecting this conversation to be over, she turns her eye on the operator.

 

“Have you seen Vegeta?” Bulma asks with more insistence than the first question.

 

Chi-Chi blinks.  “Who?”

 

Bulma huffs.  “Shorter man, handsome face...he was at the party down in steerage the other night.  Well, not  _ at _ the party exactly,” Bulma says, tapping her foot, “but we’ve seen him around several times.  He was the one who snuck into the first class dining hall.”

 

“That was  _ Goku _ ,” Chi-Chi says, pressing her hands on her hips.  

 

She’s lost her patience with Bulma’s questions.  She wonders if she’s ever going to get to Goku. That man has a tendency for running off if she leaves him alone for long periods of time.  She wants to be with him right now. They only have so much time before his roommates will return from their engine room shift and date with Lazuli Gero.  Chi-Chi can’t understand why she’s wasting an opportunity to spend quality time with her husband because of some man she doesn’t even know. Bulma’s engaged to Zarbon.  This Vegeta can’t be more important than a husband or fiancé. He certainly isn’t worth Chi-Chi’s time. She jabs a finger at the lift operator.

 

“Not at  _ breakfast time _ ,” Bulma hisses, eyeing the operator who recoils from Chi-Chi’s insistent jab.  “Vegeta was there at dinner with his big ugly friend. You remember seeing the bald man in ragged clothing, don’t you?”

 

“Oh!” Chi-Chi gasps, recalling the man with the mustache and how out of place he looked snooping around the dining hall.  “I do remember seeing him. I still don’t remember Vegeta, though.”

 

“He’s a  _ steerage _ passenger, Chi-Chi,” Bulma says, raising a brow.  “You’ve been spending enough time down there, I’d think you should know him by now.”

 

Chi-Chi raises a finger.  She doesn’t like the suggestive tone Bulma takes with her.  “I only spend time down there with  _ Goku _ .”

 

“Chi-Chi,” Bulma says with narrowed eyes, before gasping and beaming knowingly at Chi-Chi.  “No  _ wonder _ you look so smitten!  I’m surprised your father hasn’t stopped you.”

 

“Why would he stop me from seeing my husband?  He supports me spending as much time as possible with Goku Son.”

 

Bulma snorts a laugh.  “He wouldn’t if he knew what you were doing down there.”

 

Chi-Chi huffs and raises her chin.  She prods at the operator again. She wants to go down now.  She believes she’s discussed enough of her marital life with Bulma Briefs.

 

“Chi-Chi, this is serious,” Bulma says, her blue eyes piercing through the latticework divider as the operator slides it shut.  “I  _ need _ to find Vegeta.  Zarbon is going to kill him if I don’t.  Or Vegeta might be arrested. Either way, he’s in trouble.”

 

Chi-Chi raises a brow.  “If he might be arrested, Bulma, it sounds like he  _ should _ be in trouble.” 

 

“He’s innocent,” Bulma declares, her conviction seemingly even catching  _ her _ offguard as her eyes widen.  “Chi-Chi, please. Can you look for him when you get down there?  If you see him, please tell him Bulma is looking for him. I’m going to try and find Zarbon and keep him occupied.  I need to have a talk with him anyway. I can’t do anything about the officers looking for Vegeta, but at least  _ they _ don’t know who they’re looking for yet.”

 

The lift operator hums.  “I probably shouldn’t be hearing any of this.”

 

Bulma glares at him.  “You’re going to  _ keep _ pretending like you never did.”

 

“Fair enough,” the operator says with a sly smile.

 

Bulma eyes his name tag pinned to his green uniform.  “Thank you, Mr. Whis.”

 

“I expect some token of gratitude to be repaid to me, of course,” the operator says.

 

“Here!” Chi-Chi says.

 

She reaches into the fold of her gown for the loaf of freshly baked bread she planned to deliver to Goku, handing it to Mr. Whis.  He’s been very kind all this time, minding his own business about her frequent trips down below. Most gentlemen would question a first class lady’s motives for frequenting steerage, and now having witnessed this conversation and likely  _ knowing _ the nature of Chi-Chi's shameful activity down there, the least she can do is offer him some food.  Goku won’t have time to eat the bread now, anyway. She’s killed far too much time up here.

 

As Whis takes the bread and admires it, sniffing at it as if it’s a fragrant bouquet, Chi-Chi snaps her fingers at him.  “Now, down. Hurry!”

 

“Chi-Chi,” Bulma says.

 

“If I see him, I’ll talk to him.  Okay, Bulma?”

 

“Thank you,” Bulma says as the lift trembles and Whis hums in delight at the bread he’s just bitten into.  “Oh! And you should probably be careful! Vegeta doesn’t know you and he’s not very nice!”

 

Chi-Chi’s eyes bulge.  “Bulma!”

 

She doesn’t look forward to meeting with this man, but the severity of Bulma’s concern is impossible for Chi-Chi to ignore.  She doesn’t know if she can enjoy her time with Goku knowing a man might be murdered because she didn’t act. She groans as the lift descends.  If she loses her chance to be with her husband tonight because of some ornery murderer Bulma wants her to help, Chi-Chi is going to have a fit. She crosses her arms and fumes, deciding she’d better find this Vegeta quick - but first, she’s going to check Goku’s room anyway.  

He’d better be waiting for her.

* * *

Lazuli  _ really _ likes Krillin.  He’s like no man she’s ever met.  He isn’t pushy or demanding, but he isn’t distant either.  He’s present and attentive at all times, as if he’s ready to bend to her every whim.  She doesn’t know how men get this way. Lapis is aloof. Her father is the  _ opposite _ of Krillin.  Something about Krillin’s entire personality is just...really stunning.

 

“How - how was your dinner?” Krillin asks, baring a toothy smile across the table.

 

Lazuli dabs her napkin at her lips and looks out at the scenic view through the paned glass window of her state room.  She hadn’t planned to eat in here, but then her father hasn’t offered her much of an alternative. She needs the privacy.  This is working out better than she planned. She might take advantage of Krillin before they leave the room.

 

She smiles at him, giving a subtle wink which he doesn’t catch.  “Great. Now what do you say-“

 

“We go out on the deck?”  Krillin shoots to his feet and gestures wildly to their view of the ship’s deck.  “We can have a romantic sunset stroll.”

 

Lazuli frowns.  She purses her lips as she stands, reluctantly.  Her eyes dart to Krillin’s lips, which look so soft and full that she’s dying to learn how they feel.  Krillin doesn’t want to kiss her, it seems. She’s given him every opportunity. He’s made his intentions clear already, asking her to date him.  She doesn’t understand why he doesn’t just make the move. He can’t possibly be intimidated by  _ her _ .

 

“Fine,” she says with a lazy flip of her hand.  “We’ll stroll.”

 

At least Krillin grabs her hand.  His touch is like fire in her palm.  His hands are damp and his grip is tentative, but the smile on his face when their eyes meet tells the whole story.  He really meant what he said at the beginning of dinner - he likes her.

 

They vacate the state room, leaving lights on and all clues of their dinner remaining for whatever curious eyes care to venture into Lazuli’s room while she’s gone.  She could care less who finds it. Lapis has no objection. She  _ hopes _ her father objects and it burns him to the core that he can’t stop her.  The only person who can stop her now, as she steps outside into the cooling evening air to gaze out on the fiery red sunset touching the darkening Atlantic, is Krillin.

 

“Lazuli, you’re so beautiful,” Krillin says, as if the stunning scenery is nothing in comparison to her beauty, making Lazuli’s stomach flutter.  “I wish I had the money to provide you with everything in the world you’ll ever want. I understand if you have to turn me down, but please let me down easy.  I-“

 

That’s it.  She can’t take it anymore.  With a decisive hum, Lazuli leans down to Krillin’s level, looking into his dark, wide eyes.  She finds it amusing and somewhat refreshing when she discovers she needs to bend down to kiss him.  Being with Krillin is full of surprises and unexpected moments. Krillin’s pupils dilate and his tongue darts out between his parted lips before Lazuli closes the gap.

 

She puckers as the soft sensation she’s been waiting for presses against her lips.  Krillin’s lips seal around hers, massaging and caressing as if proving to her that they  _ are _ as soft as she’d imagined.  She sighs, in spite of the fact that they’re in a public place now and have an audience of strangers - the men on deck, the woman passing by with a child holding her hand, the men in the crow’s nest looking down on them, and maybe even the captain and his crew inside the bridge - but she doesn’t care who’s watching.  She only cares now as she pulls away that Krillin enjoyed the kiss as much as she did. 

 

Krillin’s eyes sparkle as his arms wrap around Lazuli’s back.  “Wow,” he breathes before drawing her in closer.

 

He initiates the second kiss.  Lazuli feels ecstatic when their lips touch because he does want to kiss her.  He does want to be close to her. He might even want to be intimate someday, if they ever get the chance to really be together.  For now, she’s in heaven, here in Krillin’s arms.

 

When they part, Lazuli smiles at Krillin.  His dazed look is both glowing and adorable.  It warms her heart, seeing him so happy.

 

Krillin giggles and rubs his head.  “So, we’ll do this again tomorrow?”

 

As Lazuli smiles and reaches for his hands, something brushes up against her from behind.  She’s jostled by the impact, but not nearly as much as Krillin is when the man weaves his way around Lazuli to shove a hand into Krillin’s jacket pocket.  As Krillin grunts a protest at Officer Cell, who shoots Krillin a sly smile as he pulls something small and metallic from his pocket, Lazuli sneers at the man who approaches from the officer’s side.  Her father. She growls, knowing he’s up to something.

 

Officer Cell chuckles, turning the device in his hand and eyeing it before Dr. Gero snatches it from his grasp.

 

“Is that the item you reported stolen?” Cell asks him.

 

“Yes,” her father drawls with a scowl.  “This is it. The penniless fool probably planned to sell it.  He didn’t even know how to  _ use _ what he had.”

 

Krillin furrows his brows, gazing at the device.  “A  _ button _ ?  Why would I take that?”

 

“It’s not just a button, you fool,” Dr. Gero snaps as he slips the button in his pocket.  “But you should know that. I want him taken away, Officer Cell. Locked up where he can’t steal from another first class passenger for the duration of this voyage.”

 

“My pleasure,” Cell says as he whips out a pair of cuffs.

 

Lazuli steps toward Krillin.  “Is this some sort of joke?”

 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!  I didn’t do it, Lazuli!” Krillin cries as Cell pushes Lazuli away and wrangles the cuffs on him.  “You have to believe me.”

 

Lazuli is stunned.  Everything was perfect a moment ago and now she’s absorbed in a nightmare.  Her father grabs her by the arm and pulls her from Krillin. She hears footsteps.  She glances over her shoulder to see Lapis running toward her. He slows as he absorbs the scene.  She glances his way and sees a somber frown on his face. His eyes meet hers, apologetic. He knows about Krillin’s theft?  Or he tried to stop this entire farce and was too late?

 

“I  _ tried _ to warn you about him, my dear,” her father whispers in her ear.

 

“You have to watch out for this lot,” Cell says as he tightens Krillin’s cuffs, making his beautiful face contort in a wince.  “I see this type of theft all the time.”

 

Lapis’ eyes dart between Krillin and the officer, then Lazuli and their father.  “He  _ stole _ from you?  Is this true?”

 

“He just admitted it to me,” Cell says, growling and baring his teeth at Krillin.  “Didn’t you?”

 

Krillin’s teeth are bared and eyes clenched shut before he answers tightly, “Yes.”

 

“You son of a bitch!” Lapis yells, lunging at Krillin until Lazuli catches him.  “This is how you try to win over my sister?”

 

Lazuli coaxes her brother, fighting him with all her might to keep him off of Krillin as he is escorted past.  Cell smiles at them while her father gives him a nod and rests his hands behind his back. Krillin’s lips are sealed and eyes are downturned.  He doesn’t even look up, too ashamed to meet Lazuli’s eyes. Lazuli’s chest clenches as she seizes Lapis by the shoulder and watches Krillin walk away.  

 

She has no idea what to make of what just happened.

* * *

Goku is sated, lethargic.  He wants to sleep now, lying here with Chi-Chi’s weight on his chest, her feather-soft hair tickling his chin.  His eyelids droop. He exhales slowly.

 

Chi-Chi stirs, sighing against his neck.  “I guess I need to go look for him now.”

 

“Hm?”  Goku furrows his brows, his gaze fixed on the crisscrossing bedsprings of the top bunk above them.  “Who?”

 

Chi-Chi slides out of bed, taking the sheets with her as she wraps them around her chest.  Goku frowns at the cold exposure, looking out the tiny porthole window to the water now turned a deep, dark blue as night begins to fall.  He’s curious why Chi-Chi would need to find anyone else down here. She only ever comes down to look for him.

 

“Bulma wants me to see if I can find someone down here - someone who’s in trouble,” Chi-Chi says in a soft whisper as she begins to dress.  She shoots a panicked glance at the door. “You’re sure your roommates can’t come in here?”

 

“Eh,” Goku says, crawling across the mattress in search of his pants, “they won’t be back for a long - what do you mean someone’s in trouble?”

 

“I don’t know,” Chi-Chi groans as she hikes her dress above her waist.  “Something about him being wanted for murder, or Zarbon trying to kill him.  Do you know someone named Vegeta?”

 

“Vegeta…”

 

Goku rubs his chin, trying to recall if he’s heard that name anywhere.  It does sound familiar, but he knows he’s never been introduced to a Vegeta.  Maybe it was one of those guys he got in a fist fight with his first night on the Shenron.  It was a quick, harmless brawl, but he remembers his opponents’ names being called out. That might be where he’s heard the name.  But if that’s him, it’s surprising to hear that Bulma is asking for him.

 

“Bulma wants you to find him?” Goku says curiously.

 

“Well,” Chi-Chi says, before gesturing to the loose laces down the back of her dress.  “Can you help, please? Well, Bulma’s busy keeping her fiancé occupied. She can’t come down here and look for him herself.  She warned me Vegeta isn’t friendly. And I’m not even sure what he looks like.”

 

“Isn’t friendly…” As he laces Chi-Chi’s dress, Goku recalls the faces of the fighters that night and tries to remember if any of them were rude to ladies, and not just him.

 

“He has a big man with him, like a bald bodyguard, I guess since he might need one, if Bulma says he’s short.”

 

“Chi-Chi!” Goku tightens the laces of her dress a little too tight, judging by the glare he receives, but he keeps smiling because now he  _ knows _ .  “I know who Vegeta is! I just saw him in the hall before you -“

 

Goku bites his tongue.  His cheeks burn at the memory of Chi-Chi’s arrival and what she did.  With her standing in front of him, her dark tousled hair smelling so sweet, this isn’t a good time for him to recall the way Chi-Chi looked at him when she came into the room and locked the door behind her.  If what Bulma said is true, he needs to concentrate on finding Vegeta right away.

 

“Uh,” Goku says, “I’ll find Vegeta.  You should go back to your room where it’s safe, Chi-Chi.”

 

“Goku,” Chi-Chi says as she throws herself into Goku’s arms, “be careful!  He might be a murderer!”

 

Goku wants to relish in the warmth of her embrace.  It feels nice here. Comfortable. But he can’t stay.  He knows someone is in danger, someone about whom a friend of his cares.

 

He loosens her arms from around his waist and lunges for the door.  Leaving Chi-Chi in the room, Goku hurries down the hall, to the place where he recalls most often seeing the man who wants nothing to do with him, who’s an amazing fighter, who hangs around with that big guy Goku beat up pretty bad in the fight.  Vegeta.

 

Goku wonders what his situation is, what could have put him in this predicament where he is now accused of murder, with Zarbon wanting to kill him.  Men like Zarbon don’t notice men like them enough to want to kill. There’s something different about Vegeta, and not just in the way he’s off-putting and rude compared to the other steerage passengers.  He’s private and secretive, too. And now Goku can see why.

 

Goku snaps a look around the corner when he reaches it, half-expecting Vegeta to emerge from his door.  His door is closed. No one is in the hall. The white walls are bare and reveal nothing to Goku’s prying gaze.  He rubs his chin. If Vegeta is in hiding, there has to be a better place to hide than where everyone’s seen him.  Bulma knows about him. Maybe Vegeta would go back to her. But not if Zarbon, her fiancé, is the man who wants to kill him.

 

“We need a plan,” someone hisses from the other end of the hall, causing Goku to whirl on his heels.  “Someone’s going to find us and kill us eventually.”

 

Goku’s eyes widen when he sees the face of the man talking.  It’s Vegeta’s friend. The big man moves aside, revealing the shorter man behind him.  Vegeta is  _ here _ .  Goku hurries to them.  

 

He seizes Vegeta by the arm.  “Vegeta!”

 

Vegeta slaps Goku’s hand off and bares his teeth at Goku.  “Who the hell are you?”

 

“Kakarot!” the big man says, his eyes lighting with recognition.  

 

Goku frowns.  “No?”

 

“Isn’t he the one who made you look like a fool that first night here, Nappa?” Vegeta says, eyeing Goku before shooting Nappa a teasing grin.

 

“No,” Nappa says with a petulant frown, crossing his arms.  “We’ve never met. I must’ve mistaken him for somebody else.”

 

“I’m Goku.  Come on!” Goku says, waving them forward as he glances toward the sound of approaching footsteps.

 

“What the hell are you doing?” Vegeta says.

 

Goku turns.  He’s traveled several steps already, but they haven’t moved.  The approaching footsteps round the corner, and Goku is relieved to see it’s only a man and child.  Next time, they might not be so lucky.

 

“Come on,” Goku growls.  “Bulma’s worried about you.  She thinks you’re in danger!”

 

“An astute woman,” Vegeta grumbles, crossing his arms.  “And what? She sent  _ you _ to help me?”

 

“Dammit!” Goku clenches his fists.  “I’m trying to help! Or do you  _ want _ Zarbon to kill you?  Is that why you keep everyone on this ship at a distance?  You wanna die?”

 

Vegeta scoffs.  “What kind of an idiot wants to die?”

 

Nappa rubs his palm over his bald head.  “I think we should hear him out, Prince Vegeta.”

 

Goku blinks.  “You’re a prince?”

 

“I’ll continue doing this my own way,” Vegeta says, bumping Goku’s shoulder hard as he passes.  “Come on, Nappa!”

 

Goku grinds his teeth as he turns to watch them leave.  He doesn’t know how he’s supposed to help someone who doesn’t want help.  He doesn’t know what to tell Bulma. He winces at the thought. He’s never good with delivering bad news to women. 

 

A man’s cry of alarm rings from the end of the hall where he left Nappa and Vegeta.  Goku gasps as he sees a flash of movement in the distance. A blast sounds before he can do anything.  It deafens him and hurts his ears. Goku runs toward it anyway. Vegeta’s probably been shot, or maybe he shot somebody.  Goku can’t see anyone but Nappa and Vegeta, but as he comes closer, he sees a smear of red across Nappa’s broad chest. Vegeta looks at him, stunned.  Nappa’s wide eyes fall on Goku before the man drops to his knees.

 

“Nappa!” Goku gasps.

 

“Dammit!” Vegeta screams as he snaps a glare past Goku.  

 

Goku follows his gaze to see Zarbon holding a pistol.  He wears a scowl on his face with his teal eyes fixed on Vegeta.  Vegeta growls behind Goku, expressing his defiance to Zarbon in so few words.

 

“Zarbon,” Goku says, raising a hand, “put the gun  _ down _ !”

 

“Not only does your mere existence frustrate Lord Frieza,” Zarbon sneers at Vegeta, “but you try to steal  _ my _ fiancé?”

 

“What?” Vegeta says.

 

“I saw the painting missing from my safe and confronted Bulma,” Zarbon says, his eye twitching.  “She told me all she’s learned on this trip about Lord Frieza...and you.”

 

Vegeta’s upper lip twitches.  “Frieza won’t kill me like he killed the rest of them.  You’ll die first, Zarbon, just like Dodoria!”

 

Zarbon cocks the hammer of his gun.  “It’s a shame your man blocked the first bullet.  This one won’t miss.”

 

“No!” Goku throws himself at Zarbon.  

 

His left hand lands on the pistol, knocking it to the ground before Zarbon lets off a shot.  As Goku’s eyes meet Zarbon’s, something flashes in his peripheral vision. Vegeta’s fist crosses his eyes, smashing into Zarbon’s nose.  Zarbon doubles back, screaming and clutching his nose. Goku looks at Vegeta, who gives him a curt nod. Zarbon scrambles past them.

 

“Vegeta!” Goku warns.

 

When Vegeta looks over his shoulder, Goku sees Zarbon’s fingers wrapping around the gun resting on the metallic floor.  Goku gasps as Vegeta turns. Zarbon positions the gun in his hands.

 

Goku shoves Vegeta.  “Run!”

 

A shot blasts through the hall.  It ricochets off the wall and smashes into the other side.  Goku cringes, relieved he didn’t find himself in the bullet’s path.  He passes Vegeta, who runs so fast Goku nearly thought he couldn’t keep up with the guy.  When another blast sounds, Goku ducks out of the hall. The sound of Vegeta’s following footsteps are a relief to his ears.  Vegeta isn’t hit yet - or at least he’s not dead.

 

“Hey!” a voice calls from behind.  

 

Goku skids to a stop.  Vegeta crashes into him when he turns to look.  Their heads collide for a brief, painful moment.  Goku looks over Vegeta’s glare, to the little old man poking his head out a door.  

 

“In here,” the old man croaks, waving him in.

 

Goku tugs Vegeta by the collar and drags him through the door with him.  He huffs as the door closes behind them, sealing shut with a click. Zarbon’s footsteps storm past, and Goku knows they’ve escaped.

 

He looks at the old man offering them sanctuary.  “Thanks.”

 

“Dammit!” Vegeta yells as he kicks the stark white wall.

 

The tiny room has two sets of bunks and a small porthole window.  If it wasn’t for the fold-out table setup with a crystal ball and odd knickknacks clinging to the walls, it would be identical to the room in which Goku and his friends were staying.

 

Goku turns to Vegeta, noting sadness in his eyes.  “Sorry about your friend.”

 

Vegeta scoffs.  “Nappa was no  _ friend _ .  He was my travel companion.”

 

“Okay,” Goku says slowly.  

 

He rubs his head, unable to determine how there’s any difference.  A throaty sound from the other side of the room calls for his attention.  The old guy is staring at them, frowning behind a curtain of gray, straw-like hair.  His small hands are pressed together. He looks like he wants something from them.

 

Goku smiles at Vegeta, even though the man is like a wall of ice.  “It’s a good thing this old man was here to take us in, or we’d be finished!”

 

The old man sputters.  “Old man? I’m a  _ woman _ , you moron!  Don’t you remember me?”

 

Goku blinks, looking closer at the old woman’s face littered with moles, stray hairs, and wrinkles.  If she  _ is _ a woman, she’s not a pretty one.  He chuckles, unable to hide his amusement.  He catches a glimpse of the crystal ball again and it all clicks.  The party. That’s where he met her. She’s the fortune teller, Baba.

 

“Oh, yeah!” Goku says.  “I remember you now.”

 

“Hey old hag,” Vegeta says, approaching the door quietly before peeking out, “why  _ did _ you help us?”

 

“I didn’t do it for  _ you _ , Prince Vegeta.” Baba’s sour scowl is replaced by a somber look as she taps her crystal ball.  “Something terrible will happen in just a few minutes which will affect all of us. Goku is my only hope of getting off this ship alive.”

 

Vegeta spins around.  “What?”

 

“What are you talking about?” Goku says.

 

“I’ve  _ seen _ it!” Baba says with narrowed eyes which shimmer with unshed tears.  “Goku, you need to find your friends. You’ll need their help if you’re going to save this old lady.”

 

“Uh…” Goku rubs his head.

 

He exchanges a dubious glance with Vegeta.  Vegeta turns a suspicious glare on the old fortune teller before scoffing at her and returning his attention to the door and what lies beyond it in the hall.

 

“What are you waiting for?” Baba cries before shoving Goku toward Vegeta.  “Get out of here, both of you! The coast is clear. Go!”

 

They lurch out the door, into the open hall.  Baba’s right. There’s no one out here but the two of them.  Goku feels unsettled, both because he doesn’t know what to do about Vegeta, and because Baba’s ominous warning and urgency don’t sit right with him.  Baba’s door slams, echoing through the hall.

 

Goku turns to Vegeta.  “What now?”

 

“We go our separate ways,” Vegeta says, brushing himself off as if he wants to wash away the contact with Goku.  “I can handle my own situation.”

 

Goku smiles, relieved.  He’s off the hook. “Sounds good to me!  Good luck, Vegeta.”

 

“Good luck,” Vegeta mutters as Goku turns away.  “Kakarot.”

 

Goku turns, raising a brow.  “Huh?”

 

“Whatever your name is,” Vegeta says with a roll of his eyes.  “You...you did goo- agh…”

 

Goku smiles.  “Your welcome for the help, Vegeta.  Tell Bulma hi for me when you see her.”

 

Vegeta’s eyes widen, his cheeks flushing red.  “I did  _ not _ say - who says I’m going to see her?”

 

Goku laughs and turns away, waving a hand over his shoulder.  Baba’s warning is temporarily forgotten. Vegeta is a fun guy.  Goku thinks if he weren’t a prince, if they ever have the chance to get to know each other in America, it could be a very good friendship.

 

For now, he knows the first place he’s going.  Chi-Chi never brought his food. His activities with Chi-Chi and Vegeta really worked up his appetite. He’ll hit the dining hall and  _ then _ find out what problem it is that he and his friends need to address for the paranoid old lady.

 


	10. Ahead Slow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm updating these quickly now because October is coming to a close and I'll be busy writing an original work all month, trying to reach the 50k word goal (wish me luck!). So since I won't have time for posting then, I'm giving you as much of this story to binge later as possible. I hope to see some feedback here when the month is over! Thank you for reading and I hope you're enjoying so far.

Tien wishes Launch wouldn’t linger.  The date was better than he could’ve expected, but now he wants to be alone with Chiaotzu.  He sits on the deck, at the same table where he dined with Launch. Chiaotzu sits across from him.  The sun is gone, the multicolored sky now darkened by twilight. A chill rests in the air, surrounding him, permeating Tien’s thin jacket.  He sees the straight line of horizon, just barely, where the darkness of the ocean meets the darker tinted sky. A pale ripple on the horizon reminds him of the icebergs sitting in these frigid waters.  He shivers and wraps his arms around his shoulders.

 

“Are you cold?” Chiaotzu says.

 

“I’m okay,” Tien says with a smile.  “Just a chill.”

 

Launch slides to his side.  “I’ll keep you warm, Tien.”

 

Tien closes his eyes.  He tries to ignore the tempting comfort of Launch’s warm body pressed against him. He shakes his head.  When he opens his eyes, Launch stares back at him.

 

“Or would you  _ rather _ ,” she says huskily, moving in closer, “I keep you warm like this?”

 

She presses her lips against Tien’s before he can object.  They feel smooth and supple. Tien’s breath seizes in his throat as Launch’s lips tremble against his. After Tien hears a cry of alarm from Chiaotzu,  Launch breaks the kiss and pulls away, looking stunning. Again, in spite of himself, Tien feels more drawn to her than he wants to be.

 

Tien licks his lips.  “That was-“

 

“Oh my god,” Chiaotzu interrupts breathlessly.

 

Tien follows Chiaotzu’s wide-eyed gaze to see what looms behind him.  He hadn’t noticed the shadow falling over him before, cutting off the starlight raining down on them, but now he does.  He hears Launch inhale sharply at the same moment his eyes light on the massive structure approaching the right side of the Shenron’s bow.  Or rather, the structure the Shenron approaches. The iceberg’s magnificent shades of blue and icy whites do not hold the same appeal as those distant forms of nature he’s been eyeing on this journey.  It looks horrid, like a spectral being sweeping toward them. Tien’s entire body tenses. He expects to see a turn of the ship and he  _ thinks _ the Shenron turns - slightly.  It won’t be enough.

 

Frantic alarms toll from the lookout tower.  Tien whirls around, his heart leaping from his chest.  He squints at the bridge below the crow's nest. He can see through the glass front the crew gathered inside with Captain Piccolo.  They don’t run around frantically as he expects, but stand absolutely still. All eyes are fixed on the iceberg drawing closer. Tien growls under his breath. His brow twitches.  He can imagine the tension that must be happening down in the engine room. He knows the pressure to prevent this collision is all on the men down there. Not all of them are as experienced as Tien.

 

“The engine rooms!” Tien gasps.  “Yamcha’s down there!”

 

Chiaotzu seizes Tien’s wrist.  “We need to get down there, Tien!”

 

“Say no more,” Launch says, running for the stern.  “I’m going down!”

 

“Launch!” Tien runs after her, forcing himself not to give in to the urge to look at the iceberg sending a chill sweeping over the deck.

 

He sprints toward the door leading into the ship, the one he pointed out to Yamcha not long ago.  His, Launch’s and Chiaotzu’s clumsy footsteps clatter and echo off the walls of the smoky, metallic tomb into which they enter.  The heat from the ovens engulfs Tien, causing him to instantly prickle with sweat as floating embers burn his eyes. Shouts of desperation are so loud that the men’s voices overpower the roaring engines.  Tien throws himself into the chaos.

 

The foreman spies them and waves.  “We need to shut down those burners!” he says, pointing to a group of ovens, some unmanned, others surrounded by frantic workers.

 

Tien nods, then cups his hands around his mouth. “Yamcha!”

 

“Tien!” Chiaotzu waves his arms to the left.  “You take care of those burners! I’ll look for him this way!”

 

“Come on, Tien,” Launch says, already on her way to turn down the heat and help slow the ship.

 

Tien moves to follow her and loses his footing when the ground trembles and seems to be pulled out from under him.  There’s a shrill screech. A loud explosion follows, the source: a wall bursting inward. Alarms blare. As icy waters shower in from the crunched metal over the burners, splashing Tien with breathtaking sensation, another explosion rocks the ship.  A series follows, like an explosive line moving toward the exit. 

 

They’re too late.

 

Everyone screams as bolts fly loose from the caving walls of the boiler room.  They ricocheting across the space filling with water and sparks, whirring like bullets into the ocean flooding in at their feet.   Tien ducks for cover, gasping as he kneels in the frigid water. He spies Yamcha taking cover, who grimaces and covers his face. Tien gets up to approach.  Yamcha peels his hand from his face and stares at it, coated in red, just like the slice across his cheek. He looks pale and unsteady. Tien lunges forward and grabs him.

 

“Yamcha,” he says as he shakes Yamcha into awareness, “hurry!”

 

Yamcha shakes his head.  Without waiting, Tien turns for the exit.  He pulls and Yamcha comes easily. They have to fight against the rising tide, which slows their run as it reaches their knees.  On the way to the door, Tien looks frantically for Chiaotzu and Launch. He doesn’t see them. Too many bodies move too quickly for him to recognize a single face.  An explosion rocks the hull from the depths of the boiler room, where one of the pistons has exploded and killed a group of men. Tien pants as he returns his focus to the door.  A metal panel lowers, shrinking the gap of the opening.

 

“They’re sealing us in!” the foreman shouts.  “Everybody out! Out!”

 

Tien’s lungs burn.  The shock of the ice cold water on his system along with the rapidness with which this is all happening don’t allow him to breathe.  He can’t leave Chiaotzu. He can’t wait, either. He snaps his gaze to the watertight door, where men are lining up to crawl through its narrowing gap.

 

“Chiaotzu!” he calls.

 

“Tien!” Launch brushes against him, her fingers clenching into his biceps.  “He’s not here yet?”

 

“No!”

 

“I saw him stumble back there,” Launch says with a grimace, splashing a chill of water all over Tien as she waves her hand toward the back of the room.  “I thought he got up!”

 

“Dammit!” Tien growls.

 

Yamcha extends a hand from where he now kneels on the safe side of the closing door.  “Come on!”

 

When Tien lurches away from the door, back into the waist-high waters, Launch clutches his arm.  “There’s no  _ time _ , Tien!  Now get in there!”

 

Tien glances at the door, now narrow enough that a man his size might barely squeeze through it.  Remaining on this side means inevitably drowning. The waters will rise until these chambers fill.  He knows it’s the only way Captain Piccolo could save the rest of the ship from the iceberg’s damage, sacrificing these compartments.  He gnaws his bottom lip before pushing Launch toward the closing door. She pulls him along.

 

“Chiaotzu!” Tien cries, craning his neck to look over the thrashing men in the water and the rising smoke from the flooded boilers.

 

A small head emerges from the water.  Chiaotzu’s eyes, wide and stricken with terror, meet Tien’s.

 

“Chiaotzu!”

 

“Tien,” Chiaotzu says as he’s shoved back by a new wave of the crowd scrambling for the exit.  “Go!”

 

“Chiaotzu, no!” Tien throws himself from the door.

 

Launch shoves him, his back hitting the iron wall beside the watertight door.

 

Yamcha’s hand pulls at his leg beneath the water.  “Come on, Tien!”

 

“Go…” Chiaotzu says, his eyes fixated on Tien, his words that follow swallowed up by the blasts and the yells from other terrified workers.

 

Tien is no longer able to fight the tug of Yamcha’s grasp.  He slides through the doorway, having to duck below the door as it bears down on him in all its weight and power.  He pulls Launch with him, who cries out as her torso slides through the narrow opening. Her legs are pinched by the downward descent of the door.  Tien yanks her by the knees, drawing Launch’s feet through just before the hatch closes. Permanently.

 

Tien presses his back against the wall.  Water rushes out the sealed doorway into the new compartment, but Tien doesn’t care.  He may as well have been crushed by that door, given the crushing sensation he feels now. Chiaotzu is never coming out of there.  Several men are dying and screaming on the other side of that door. Launch’s arms wrap around Tien. 

 

“I’m so sorry,” Yamcha says quietly.  “What the hell is happening to the ship?  This is terrible!”

 

Tien is sorry, not only for Chiaotzu and the others, but for the rest of the passengers who still have no idea what has happened. Launch tells Yamcha about the iceberg they saw while Tien grimaces and fights back the tears that want to fall for his dear friend.  Something terrible has just happened to this supposed ship of dreams.

* * *

 

Bulma steps out of her room and glances either direction down the hall.  She’s not the only one. Other men and women have left the comforts of their state rooms to investigate the commotion.  First there was that violent vibration, and now this. As Mr. Whis flits down the hall, his familiar eyes panning over Bulma as if he does not recognize her, Bulma scowls at him.  She doesn’t have time for this nonsense. She needs to find Vegeta now that Zarbon knows she and him are through. Mr. Whis shoves one of the white, lumpy vests he carries into Bulma’s hands before she can turn toward the lift.

 

“What is going  _ on _ , Mr. Whis?” Bulma says.

 

“No need to be concerned, Ladies and Gentlemen,” Mr. Whis says as he continues down the hall, passing life vests to one passenger after another, as the other men in green uniforms do.  “You’ll want to put these on as a precaution, though.”

 

Bulma holds the ugly thing out and frowns at it.  She doesn’t need a life vest. She needs to find her prince.  She flushes.  _ A _ prince.  The prince.  Prince Vegeta.  Bulma shakes her head and tosses the vest to the ground like a piece of garbage.  She turns for the lift. People are blocking the hall.

 

“...I know,” Lazuli Gero says, crossing the hall to shake her twin brother.  “I’m not stupid. Our father framed him. Can’t you see that?”

 

“Uh, hi,” Bulma says as she tries to ease past them.

 

Lazuli ignores her.  Lapis continues to block her path as his arms flail.  “Say he did frame him,” Lapis says. “What do you plan to do about it?  He’s under arrest already.”

 

“I want to know where they’ve taken Krillin,” Lazuli says, her blue eyes narrowing.

 

While Bulma gasps at realizing  _ Krillin’s _ been arrested, Lapis shakes the life vest in his hand, another piece of bulk blocking Bulma’s path to the lift.  “And what do you think  _ this _ is all about, huh?  You really think it’s safe for you to wander the ship alone right now?”

 

“Hey, guys,” Bulma says, “I know where the Sargent in arms takes people under arrest, and I happen to be heading that way right now.”  She narrows her eyes. “If  _ some people _ will let me pass!”

 

Lazuli raises a brow.  “Are you sure you know where you’re going?”

 

Bulma smiles.  “Are  _ you _ giving me an opening to ask for the juicy details on why you’re searching for a framed, arrested man?”

 

As Lazuli exchanges a defeated glance with her twin, Lapis waves a gentlemanly hand toward the lift.  “Lead the way, Miss Briefs.”

 

“Lapis!” Lazuli says.  “You’re not coming with-“

 

“I’m not letting you go alone.  If Krillin  _ is _ the thief Cell claims he is-“

 

“He’s not.”

 

Lapis shrugs as Bulma brushes past him.  “Still not taking any chances.”

 

“Okay,” Bulma says as she steps forward and squares off inside the small container of the lift, waiting for someone to lower the thing.  Mr. Whis is gone, still busy. Bulma frowns at Lapis and Lazuli’s backs as they stand waiting in front of her. “Now what?”

 

Lapis groans and reaches for the controls.  “I’ll do it. How hard can it be?”

 

“Better hold on,” Lazuli whispers to Bulma over her shoulder, in much too calm a voice as Lapis pulls a lever.

 

Bulma braces her hands on two walls of the lift as it vibrates before dropping at a faster pace than usual.  They descend in tense silence, holding their breaths. They reach the bottom safely, miraculously. When they open the lift door, everything seems normal on this floor.  It is as if no one here is aware of anything unusual on the Shenron. They must’ve felt the vibration, worse than Bulma would’ve felt it on the upper levels, but Bulma suspects something made them disregard it.  

 

No crew members hand out life jackets down here.  As Bulma travels through the hall with Lapis and Lazuli, she doesn’t see a single crew member or a concerned face.  A young woman bows her head and gives Bulma an amiable smile, though she eyes the life vest in Lazuli’s arms with suspicion as she passes.

 

“This is...interesting,” Lapis drawls.

 

“Oh my God,” Bulma says, clapping a hand to her mouth.  “They’re not warning them. Something serious  _ is _ happening.”

 

“How do you know that?” Lazuli asks.  “Maybe they’re just being their usual uptight, over-catering selves up in first class.”

 

“No,” Lapis says, “I think she’s right, Laz.  Father wouldn’t allow life vests to appear on his perfectly-enhanced ship - not unless something was seriously wrong enough for the captain to demand it.”

 

Bulma takes a deep breath.  Her heart wrenches. She needs to find Vegeta - fast.  They need to get to the upper levels before the crew finally alerts the third class passengers.  She needs to get up there so she can know exactly what’s happening to the Shenron. She hopes she doesn’t run into Zarbon down here.  She hopes she isn’t too late.

 

“Where is he?” Bulma growls.

 

“He?” Lazuli balks.  “I thought we were looking for  _ it _ .  Where is the room where the passengers are kept under arrest, Bulma?”

 

“Oh, right,” Bulma says as her eyes dart down a hall that crosses their path, searching for black spikes of hair shooting out above the groups of people chatting.  “Go down this hall,” she says as she points. “Make a left, turn right at the end of that hall. You’ll see a lift, and just after you pass it, there’s another hallway.”

 

“Are you getting all of this?” Lapis says, nudging his sister.

 

“Sh,” Lazuli says, her eyes narrowed in concentration.

 

“Four doors down in that hallway, you’ll find the room where the prisoners are held.”

 

Lapis raises a brow.  “How do you know this?”

 

Bulma shrugs and grins.  “I explored all over the ship on departure day.  I guess I was hoping to find someone in lock up, but I came up empty.”

 

Lazuli smirks.  “Have a thing for bad boys, do you?”

 

Bulma blushes.  Seeing that right now, she’s urgently seeking a man who she watched commit a murder, Lazuli might be right about that. 

 

“I have to go,” Bulma says hurriedly.

 

“Bulma!” Lazuli calls when Bulma turns away.  She smiles. “Good luck...finding your man.”

 

Bulma gasps.  She hasn’t told these two who she’s looking for or  _ why _ he is so important to her that she’ll willingly head down here rather than returning to first class, where it’s safer.  Apparently, she doesn’t have to. It’s obvious that she cares about the person she seeks. She doesn’t know why she should care.  Her first priority should be self-preservation. Between dooming herself to potential social ruin by Zarbon with breaking their engagement over another man, and something bizarre happening on this magical ship now, Vegeta’s fate should be the least of her worries.  But it isn’t.

 

Bulma smiles back.  “And good luck finding yours.  If it means anything, from what I’ve seen of Krillin, he’s a good guy.  You two should be happy together.”

 

“Yeah.” Lazuli rolls her eyes, but she can’t hide the reddening of her cheeks.  “If I ever prove Krillin innocent, it’ll be a miracle for us to be together while my father’s still alive.”

 

“Come on, Lazuli,” Lapis says, grabbing her arm and issuing Bulma a sharp nod of farewell.  “Let’s find your shrimp and get our asses back to first class. I want to know what’s happening to this ship.”

* * *

 

Piccolo digs his fingers into the ledge of a counter.  All eyes of the members of the bridge burn into his back.  He can practically hear their hearts pounding, like a symphony of drums ringing in his ears.  The ghostly echo of the screech from that terrible collision haunts his memory. It kills his concentration. He knows, based on the way the ship rocked and the degree at which they were heading, the hit was severe.  It’s only about to be made official now, but he feels he already knows their fate. 

 

“Captain,” Mr. Popo says, “the engine room compartments have been closed off.  Those chambers are flooding as we speak.”

 

“How bad?” Piccolo says.

 

“Mr. Dende is on his way now with the schematics,” Mr. Popo says in a hushed whisper.  “He’s the only one who knows this ship well enough to truly assess the extent of the damage.”

 

“We’re so sorry,” the white-haired lookout finally speaks.  “We were distracted, Captain. We didn’t see it.”

 

“As soon as we did, though,” the fat, blabbering one says, “we rang that bell.  We acted as soon as we could!”

 

Piccolo sends a glare over his shoulder.  “What could’ve  _ possibly _ distracted you from seeing that massive iceberg before it was right on us?”

 

The fat man gulps and looks to his friend, who only bows his head in shame.

 

“A girl,” the fat man whispers.  “She was...well she  _ kissed _ him.  We don’t see that often.  The view from the crow’s nest doesn’t usually give us much to look at.”  He laughs nervously. “Right, Korin?”

 

“Yajirobe,” Korin grumbles.  “You’re only making it worse.  Keep your mouth  _ shut _ .”

 

“Doesn’t matter,” Piccolo grumbles, looking out on the clear ocean, which extends as far as the eye can see.

 

There will not be another ship or structure within range for hours.  They are in the middle of the Atlantic. Piccolo fears by the time anything can reach this ship, it’ll be too late for help.  

 

A bang sounds from behind.  “Captain!”

 

Piccolo turns his eyes to the door, where Mr. Dende flies into the room with a rolled parchment in his hand, and another tucked under his arm.  The architect wears his life vest securely around his chest. Piccolo’s frown deepens as the architect spreads his parchments across the table. This is not a good sign.  Piccolo’s throat tightens as he looks down on the blueprints filling the splayed documents. He’s afraid to hear it, but he knows Mr. Dende will put into words that which Piccolo already knows.


	11. Abandon Ship

Piccolo gapes at Dende.  Painful silence fills the bridge.  

 

“The Shenron...will sink.”

 

Piccolo knew this was coming, and still, the news hurts.  He can’t imagine what the rest of his crew are feeling in this moment.  In the back of his mind, which he realizes must be in the forefront of Dende’s, is the fact that this ship is not stocked with enough lifeboats to evacuate every passenger.  By the time help arrives, the ship will be underwater, and people will be wallowing in the open ocean, freezing. It won’t save them, but it can’t hurt to send an SOS. They have to do everything they can.

 

“Mr. Yajirobe, Mr. Korin,” Piccolo says, “head into the communications room with Mr. Kaio.  Help him send as many SOSs as possible in the next hour. One of you, light a flare.”

 

Even with the urgency of Piccolo’s command, the shock is too powerful for his people to act.  No one moves, aside from Korin nodding his head mutely.

 

Mr. Popo licks his lips and nods his head toward Dende.  “How - how long do we have?”

 

Dende glances at Popo before he knits his brows and lets his eyes wander over the blueprints.  He shakes his head. “An hour and a half, two at the most. You see here,” Dende says, pointing his index finger at the diagram representing the flooded boiler room compartments, “these first four compartments are already flooded.  The fifth is flooding now, according to reports from workers who got out. The ship can’t withstand this compartment flooding like it could with the others. From the time that compartment is filled, this ship can stay afloat no longer than one hour.”

 

Piccolo narrows his eyes at the lookouts.  “You need to move. Fast.”

 

“An hour and a  _ half _ ,” Mr. Popo whimpers, falling back against the counter behind him.  “Kami!”

 

Piccolo frowns at Mr. Popo.  “We can’t fret, Mr. Popo. We need to act.  Over two-thousand souls on board, and they’re counting on  _ us _ .”

 

“Two-thousand.”  Mr. Dende wipes his brow.  “There are only enough life boats to carry  _ one _ -thousand, when loaded to capacity.”

 

“My God,” Mr. Popo says.

 

A murmur of concern rumbles from the other crew members listening with rapt attention. Korin and Yajirobe run out the door.  It slams behind them. Piccolo fills his lungs and expels the air, finding no relief for his frantically pounding heart.

 

“Captain,” Mr. Popo says.  “Shall I have the crew start loading the life boats with the women and children first?”

 

Piccolo clenches his jaw, his mind on the hundred or so men who perished in the engine rooms under his order of closing the compartments.  It pains him to know they are only the first of many casualties to come. Sweat beads on Piccolo’s forehead, trickles down his temple.

 

“Save the children first,” Piccolo says, “yes, Mr. Popo, and they’ll need their mothers.”

 

* * *

 

Vegeta isn’t going to run like a coward into that woman’s arms.  That idiot made assumptions he shouldn’t have. Vegeta has too much pride to cower away from a challenge.  Zarbon tried to kill him. It’s only fitting that Vegeta returns the favor.

 

He’s been searching for an appropriate weapon for the last half hour.  Whatever chaos has befallen this ship is serving him well. With people running around now, confused about the tremor they felt and why crew members refuse to tell anyone anything down here, Vegeta is able to wander freely into the abandoned rooms to take what he needs.

 

He wonders about it, though.  Even as he searches and keeps his mind fixated on his intent to kill Zarbon, he plays through scenarios in his mind of what may have happened. If anyone of authority knew he was a prince, he’s sure someone would’ve informed him by now.  Being down in this hellhole with these rejects, he is left in the dark. All he knows is that whatever’s happened, it’s serious. He knows as soon as Zarbon is dead, he’ll have another problem to address. The Shenron is in some sort of trouble.

 

He steps out of a third class cabin empty handed.  A woman’s whimpers approach him in the hall. Vegeta turns and receives the collision he should’ve seen coming.  The woman, with her dark hair and youthful, worrisome face doesn’t apologize or even back off for a second to let Vegeta regain his composure.

 

She seizes him by the shoulders.  “Have you seen Goku?”

 

Vegeta sneers.  “Who? Get off me, you crazy woman!”

 

She shakes her head and sprints away from him like a ball rebounding off a wall.  Her dress is far too fine for a third class woman, out of place here. It reminds Vegeta of Bulma, the woman he supposedly is going to find.  He has to kill Zarbon and find out what is happening on this ship. He has no time for her. But if the Shenron is in trouble, then she is, too.  Images come to mind of her frightened face as she looks for him, because Vegeta  _ knows _ she’ll seek him out.  He growls and hurries down the hall again.  He needs to find a damn gun!

 

“Vegeta!”

 

Vegeta freezes.  His shoulders stiffen as he turns slowly to face the woman on his mind.  She stares back at him, relief visible in her soft blue eyes. Vegeta clenches his jaw.  She shouldn’t be here.

 

“What are you doing down here?” he yells.

 

Bulma’s adoring smile morphs into a scowl.  “I came here for  _ you _ !”

 

Vegeta massages his brow.  “I don’t have time for your nonsense!”

 

“Oh,  _ nonsense _ , is it?” Bulma asks, propping her hands on her hips.  “In case you haven’t noticed, something serious is happening.  You’re not any more safe down here than I am!”

 

Vegeta scoffs.  He turns his eyes away from her.  Crosses his arms. Tries to think of anything he can say to win this argument without outright saying he doesn’t want anything to happen to her.  He shouldn’t care. It’s  _ Zarbon _ he should care about, no one else.

 

“I need to see Zarbon dead,” Vegeta says.  “That asshole tried to kill me.”

 

“I figured he would,” Bulma says, gnawing her plump bottom lip as she steps toward Vegeta.  “I broke our engagement.”

 

“He told me,” Vegeta says, adding a quick, “not that it matters to me.”

 

“Of course not,” Bulma says, her lips curling into a sly smile as she continues to gnaw.  “But for now you can’t leave a lady unattended down here, so you’re going to have to save Zarbon for later.”

 

Vegeta scoffs.  He recoils from Bulma’s approach, realizing too late that she’s come close enough to touch him.  She has some nerve,  _ telling _ him he has to forget about Zarbon.  But the confounding woman is right. Now that he’s been called out on it, he can’t leave her.  No prince would leave a lady alone below decks in the ship’s current state. He growls. He still  _ wants _ to find Zarbon.  He still needs a weapon in case they cross each other’s paths.  Warm fingers wrap around Vegeta’s hand.

 

“Come on!” Bulma says.

 

He gives in to the tug.  She is forceful and fragile at the same time.  He can crush her fingers in his grasp if he wants, but the tenderness of her grasp prevents him from wanting to.  She pulls him at a hurried pace, back the way she came. At every open door they pass, Vegeta glances inside with hopes of spying a weapon.  He feels more vulnerable than ever, weaponless and in Bulma’s presence. 

 

A blast rattles the hall.  Bulma comes to a screeching halt as the wall in front of them splinters into shards of white metal flying at their faces.  Vegeta’s hand flies to his ear, which throbs with deafening pressure. He pulls Bulma’s hand and dives into the next hall, making the turn that may save their lives.  He knows another bullet like the one that just punctured that wall will fly at them, maybe hitting this time if they didn’t have these twisted corridors to block them.  Zarbon is on their trail. He found Vegeta before Vegeta could find him. Vegeta’s temples pulse and his blood rages as he runs with a scared, trembling woman at his side, and another shot rings through the hall.

 

“Why is he shooting at us?” Bulma screams.

 

“To kill us!”

 

“But why  _ me _ ?” She cranes her neck to see the gunman pursuing them, a glare hiding the fear in her eyes.  “I’m your ex-fiancé! How dare you shoot at a lady!”

 

Bulma slows Vegeta down with the shouting in his ear.  Vegeta shakes his head, having no time or tolerance for this.  “Shut up and run!”

 

Bulma scoffs, but picks up the pace when another explosion rocks the hall and sends other people running and screaming in various directions.  Vegeta hears Zarbon’s footsteps behind him, losing ground, or so Vegeta hopes. He needs to turn off somewhere where Zarbon won’t be able to follow.  

 

He grasps Bulma’s hand tighter and surges forward with all his might.  If the woman had let him keep searching, he might be armed and able to fight back by now, rather than running like a coward.  This is disgraceful. The only thing Vegeta can do is put distance between them and ignore the increasing chaoticness of their surroundings.  People wearing life vests and scrambling to retrieve their belongings from their rooms is not a comforting sign. But right now, Vegeta’s more worried about scrambling to avoid a bullet in his back.

* * *

 

Goku licks his lips.  He wants to savor every last crumb from his overdue meal.  It still isn’t half as much food as he’d hoped for, but he supposes he’s as satiated as he’s going to be.  Besides, as he turns in his chair, positioning himself to see out the dining room’s double doors as he  _ considers _ the idea of sneaking more food than he’s been alotted from the buffet table, he realizes something is happening.  

 

Two children run past the door when he turns, which isn’t a sight out of the ordinary.  But the man running after them sporting a chunky white vest, wearing a terrified expression on his face, alarms Goku.  Goku grunts and shoots to his feet. An elderly woman now crosses the doorway, pulling a heavy gray suitcase behind her.  Goku furrows his brows. During his meal, he’d felt a disruption in the ship. It was just a slight tremble, which the ship’s dining staff had been quick to wave off as “nothing” at the time.  Yet now, as he glances back to the kitchens and the staff huddled together in the dining room, he sees they don’t think it’s nothing. With a gasp, he remembers the old fortune teller’s warning.  

 

He needs to find his friends.

 

Goku darts out the dining room doors, skidding to a stop in the middle of the hall.  He looks left, then right, to see unfamiliar faces all wearing telling expressions. They’re confused and frightened.  Goku’s brow twitches as he grits his teeth and decides he needs to act, but he doesn’t know how. He doesn’t even know what he’s reacting to.

 

A blast sounds from down the hall.  It’s like a firecracker popping, but someone would be insane to set off a firecracker in here.  Goku’s heart pounds. Maybe the noise is an after-effect of the event that rocked the Shenron. He doesn’t know whether to run toward it or away from it.  He feels his friends are in danger, but he can’t help them. He has no idea where they are.

 

“Dammit!” Goku yells, pounding his fist into his hand.  “What is going  _ on _ ?”

 

“Goku!”

 

He turns, relieved to hear her sweet voice.  Chi-Chi. He’d left her in his room when he went to find Vegeta.  He had no idea she’d still be down here. As happy as he is to see her, she doesn’t seem very happy to see him.  She looked ecstatic when their eyes first met, but now she looks terrifyingly furious. Her eyes are narrowed into slits so thin, Goku can hardly see the sparkle in her dark eyes.  Seeing the way her left fist clenches at her side while the other carries something white and partly hidden behind her ornately printed dress as she marches toward him, Goku gulps.

 

“You never came back for me!” Chi-Chi says.  “I  _ waited _ for you!”

 

Goku blinks.  “In my room?”

 

“Where else?” Chi-Chi snaps.  “And now we’re in the middle of an emergency.  I don’t even know what’s happening. I - I -“

 

Chi-Chi trails off as her bottom lip trembles and her eyes shimmer with tears.  She’s going to cry, and it’s because of him. Goku feels awful. He also feels relieved, now that she doesn’t seem angry anymore.  He can’t conceal the smile that comes with his relief. But he offers her comfort by wrapping his arm over her shoulder as soon as she comes close.

 

“Gee, I’m sorry, Chi-Chi,” he says, breathing in the sweet fragrance of her hair.  “I didn’t know you’d be so scared.”

 

Chi-Chi recoils from the hug into which she was snuggling a second ago to meet Goku’s eyes.  “Anyone with common sense is scared right now, Goku. Can’t you see what’s happening?”

 

Goku rubs his head. “Not...exactly.  What’s happening?”

 

Chi-Chi opens her mouth and presses her lips together as her cheeks turn bright pink.  “I’m not...sure either exactly. But it’s serious! When I was looking for you, one steward handed me this life vest,” she says as she lifts the same item worn by the man Goku saw, “and another tried to convince me to head upstairs.  He said first class passengers shouldn’t be down here now. He - he told me they were loading the life boats and I’d better get in line.”

 

Chi-Chi leans in close to Goku when she says this, and not in the way she does when she wants a kiss.  Her gaze is serious and intense. The tension in her jaw is evident. Goku is upset by this news as well.  Not only was the old fortune teller right, but Chi-Chi is still down here. Every person on this ship is in danger.  And Chi-Chi didn’t do as the stewards said, as she  _ should’ve _ done, because of  _ him _ .

 

Goku seizes her by the shoulders and narrows his eyes.  “Chi-Chi! You need to do what they say. Now!”

 

“Goku!”

 

“You can’t stay down here, Chi-Chi.  Find your father. Get on a boat.”

 

“Not without  _ you _ ,” she says stubbornly.

 

“Chi-Chi,” Goku says, his voice softening yet remaining stern, “I can’t leave my friends down here.  Krillin and Yamcha, the old fortune teller. I  _ have _ to help them first.  I can find them faster if I know you’re safe.  But I’ll meet you up there after, okay?”

 

Chi-Chi sniffs.  “Promise?”

 

Goku tenses.  He wasn’t expecting that.  “Well, I -“

 

“Promise me, Goku!  I won’t leave until you do.”

 

“I promise,” Goku says, his throat tightening at the realization that he might not be able to fulfill this promise without knowing how bad things are on the ship.  He kisses Chi-Chi’s cheek to stop her from seeing in his eyes that which he hopes she doesn’t notice. “Now, will you go?”

 

Chi-Chi sighs, wringing her hands together.  “My father  _ is _ all alone up there.  I can’t imagine how scared he must be, not knowing where I am.”

 

“Tell him I said hi,” Goku says with a smile, turning away, “and that I’ll see you both soon.”

 

Chi-Chi gives a curt nod, that demanding look returning in her eyes.  “You’d  _ better _ .”

 

Goku lets out something between a whimper and a nervous laugh as Chi-Chi turns away, whipping her long black hair over her shoulder.  It’s silly, because he knows if he doesn’t satisfy his promise to her, it’ll be because he’s dead. And yet, the idea of facing Chi-Chi’s wrath scares him more than death.

 

He has to find his friends and bring them up on deck with him as fast as possible.


	12. Women and Children Evacuation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I said I wasn't updating in November, but looks like I lied. This was already edited out and good to go anyway, as far as I see. And I'm running AHEAD OF SCHEDULE with nanowrimo. I am shocked. So consider posting this chapter as my celebrating that fact ;)

“Are those cuffs tight enough for you?” Officer Cell says, rapping the key against the table in a slow, teasing manner.

 

Krillin shakes his hands.  His shackles rattle and jingle against the solid metal pipe holding him to the ground.  This room is tiny and remote. Krillin hates being here alone with the cocky officer, who revels in his capture.

 

He narrows his eyes at the officer.  “I didn’t steal that thing. I don’t even know what it is!  Why would I steal a button?”

 

“That  _ button _ ,” Cell says, stilling the key in his hand as he sends Krillin a glare, “is a remote designed by Dr. Gero.  It’s a prototype that’s going to be worth thousands. But you already knew that, didn’t you?”

 

Krillin heaves a sigh.  Nothing he says is going to convince this guy of his innocence.  He doubts he can appeal to the man’s sympathy either, but he figures it's worth a try.

 

“Something is happening to the ship,” he says.  “What was that tremor? Has anyone told you what’s happening?”

 

“Yes.”  Cell smiles.  “It appears we’ve hit an iceberg.  Terrible problem. It seems the Shenron will sink.”

 

Krillin furrows his brows.  “Then why are you smiling?”

 

“I’ll be leaving safely on a life boat.  But  _ you _ \- well,” Cell laughs and theatrically peers around the vacant room, “good luck with those cuffs.”

 

Cell stands, holding the key to the cuffs, the key to Krillin’s freedom, deliberately over the table.  When he sets the key in the center of the table, impossible for Krillin to ever reach, Krillin clenches his jaw.  His bottom lip trembles. He realizes he’s going to die down here. He’s going to die with Lazuli believing him a criminal only interested in her for money.  He’s going to die a miserable, drowning, freezing death, strapped to a pipe in a lonely room. With a surge of rage, Krillin screams. The sharp edges of his cuffs tear into his flesh as he yanks his arms from the pipe, unsuccessfully.

 

Cell laughs as he heads toward the door.  He doesn’t say another word before he slips out of Krillin’s view.  Krillin gulps. The silence of his tomb is overwhelming. He needs noise, so he moves.  He wrestles with the cuffs, knowing full well that it’s impossible for his human skin to break through the sturdy metal.  It’s painful and tedious, what he’s doing to himself, but at least he’s doing  _ something _ .  He wishes Goku were here.  Goku could get him out of this mess, just by snatching those keys off the table and unfastening these cuffs.  Instead, he struggles alone. There is no sound of approaching footsteps from the hall. No voices call his name.  Krillin chokes back a sob as he wrenches his hands away from the pipe, pushing with his legs and ignoring the excruciating pain inflicted on his wrists.  

 

His eyes lift slightly and he freezes.  His breath catches in his throat when he sees through the tiny porthole window, the water’s surface as a diagonal line across his view.  It is above the level of his head, illustrating how the bow must be descended. Krillin’s heart flutters. He feels a chill just thinking about the water.  Or maybe this quarter of the ship is growing cool. With goosebumps prickling his flesh, Krillin resumes his desperate struggle. He grunts and groans, pushes and pulls, but it is no good. 

 

If no one passes by here, which is most probable, seeing that anyone with eyes and a mind for self-preservation will be headed to the deck by now, Krillin knows he is as good as gone.  A tear runs down his cheek, but he refuses to give up. He might die, but he won’t die a quitter.

* * *

Above deck, it is more chaotic than below.  Chi-Chi cannot find her father in the maze of people crowding the crew who load the lifeboats.  Women and children crowd so close together at the front of the line, they are like sardines packed in a tin can.  Men shout and shove at each other, some trying to steal a spot on the boats, others struggling to press their eligible loved ones to the front of the line.  All along the deck, men in green uniform shout at the rioting crowd, ordering them to stand down, shouting out the procedures that no one is following.

 

“One at a time,” they say.  “Women and children  _ only _ .  Stand back!”

 

It is like a mantra, repeated so often that the phrases buzz in Chi-Chi’s head as she pushes her way to the bow, hoping to find her father.  There is a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach when she thinks of Goku still far below decks, and how much further he has to go before he could possibly board one of these ships.  She doesn’t see her father, but Chi-Chi stops when she spies another familiar face.

 

She seizes him by the shoulder as he passes without seeing her.  “Mr. Dende!”

 

He comes to a halt and blinks at her.  “M-Miss King.”

 

“Have you seen my father?”

 

“N-no, I-“ He blots his perspiration-glistened forehead and knits his brows.  “Actually, he might be on the other side. Many of the first class male passengers are gathered there around the musicians.”

 

“Musicians?” Chi-Chi says, gasping as she recalls the way her father complimented their music while dining one night.  “Thank you, Mr. Dende.”

 

“Miss King!” Dende says, stopping Chi-Chi before she sprints for her father.  “You must get yourself on a lifeboat as fast as possible. Don’t wait.”

 

The way he says ‘don’t wait’, with such a stern glower and depth to his usually jovial voice, makes Chi-Chi pause.  She furrows her brows and cocks her head at him, seeing in his expression that there is something more to the demand than simple reassurance of her finding safety sooner rather than later.

 

“Why can’t I wait, Mr. Dende?”

 

He gulps.  “There is only enough space on the lifeboats for a thousand passengers at most.  You remember how many boarded the ship, don’t you?”

 

Slowly, as the memory registers and the pieces come together too fast for her mouth to catch up with her brain, Chi-Chi’s jaw drops.  “Wa - was it...two? Two-thous-“

 

“Yes,” Mr. Dende says sharply.  “Find your father if you must, but then get on a lifeboat.”

 

Chi-Chi clasps Dende’s hand in hers, which trembles both from shivering in the cold and her shocking realization.  “Thank you, Mr. Dende. Take care of yourself.”

 

Dende smiles and meets her eye, but says no more.  Chi-Chi whirls on her heels, more determined to find her father now.  She feels her breath becoming labored as she hurries, and it’s not only from the physical exertion of shoving and propelling herself forward through the crowd.  It is just now setting in, how serious this is. The view she sees when the crowd finally parts, letting her see off the side of the ship, is the final tipping point that nearly sets Chi-Chi into a fainting spell.  She has to take deep breaths and close her eyes to regain her composure, but when she opens her eyes, the terrifying sight is still there.

 

The line of the ocean is impossibly close to the deck at the front end of the ship.  Light from the Shenron’s interior windows is reflected across the dark water touching their frames.  Lifeboats hang from ropes to be lowered into the water aside the ship. One lifeboats is in the water when Chi-Chi expands her view, drifting away into darkness with no more than twenty or thirty people filling half its hull.  A flash of light and explosion draws a gasp from Chi-Chi and everyone around her. Her gaze is pulled from the water to the flash of white overhead. Specks of yellow and orange glitter lights the sky. The light falls into the ocean like a cascading waterfall, disappearing and leaving the sky and water in darkness once again.  A flare. 

 

This is all too real.  Chi-Chi can’t be alone for this.  She needs her loved ones safe. She needs to find her father.  And then...then Dende encouraged her to get on a lifeboat. And he’s right.  But she needs to know Goku is safe. She clasps her hands over her pounding heart and runs to the other side of the deck, to her father.  She doesn’t know what she’ll do. 

 

She doesn’t know how to save everyone she cares about.

* * *

Yamcha doesn’t know what he’s doing lingering here in steerage.  After what happened in the engine rooms, his mind can’t seem to wrap around anything happening on the Shenron.  Chiaotzu’s dead. Their fellow engineers are dead, most of them. Drowned in the sunken engine rooms. The Shenron will succumb to the same fate.  Yamcha know where this is headed for him. He sees Tien looking distracted as they run together. Launch looks fierce with determination, though Yamcha doesn’t remember what she’s doing here.  He knows she’s only focused on Tien. He feels alone here with the two of them. 

 

There is one companion on this ship he can’t leave behind.  Puar.  _ That’s _ what he’s doing down here.  He needs to find Puar. He needs to wrap his furry friend in his arms and bring him above deck.  He would never think of going up there by himself. 

 

“There was nothing you could do, Tien,” Launch says softly, breaking the verbal silence they’ve endured since expressing their initial sympathies at the engineering room doorway.

 

Tien clenches his jaw and stares straight ahead.  “I could’ve done better. There must’ve been  _ somethin _ -“

 

“Knock that off!” Launch yells, punching Tien’s shoulder.  “Chiaotzu made his choice. He did what he had to! Now you do what you need to survive, Tien.”

 

Tien shoots her a glare.  “What do you care?”

 

Launch growls.  Yamcha’s almost convinced she’s going to slap Tien.  She shakes her head. “See?  _ This _ is what I love abou’cha, Tien.”

 

Tien rolls his eyes.  Yamcha stifles a laugh.  The doe-eyed look in Launch’s eyes is a priceless sight Yamcha won’t soon forget.  The woman really  _ is _ smitten with Tien.  But that doesn’t matter now. What matters is finding Puar and getting the hell up on deck.

 

Yamcha picks up the pace when they reach his hall.  He hopes to find Puar exactly where he left him before he headed down to work in the engine rooms.  When he spies the gap in the door left ajar, Yamcha’s heart drops into his stomach. He cries out as he lunges for the door.

 

The room is empty.  He knows it before he peers through the open doorway.  Four beds, abandoned along with belongings no one has time to worry about, stare back at him.  Yamcha suppresses a whimper.

 

“Come on, Yamcha,” Tien says softly, putting a hand on Yamcha’s shoulder.

 

Sighing, Yamcha goes with Tien.  He follows Tien and Launch numbly down the hall.  He doesn’t know what to do now. His cat is missing in a sea of chaos.  Puar must be scared. He must be running around frantic or hiding somewhere.  He’ll be most comfortable in a place that’s familiar.

 

Yamcha gasps.  “I should go back!  What if he’s hiding-“

 

“No, Yamcha,” Launch says, baring her teeth.  “It's bad enough the crew is giving first class passengers their head start on the lifeboats.  I need to get my ass above deck as soon as possible to claim my spot in a boat.”

 

Yamcha clenches his jaw.  “Well then,  _ you _ go.”

 

“Hey!” A voice calls from behind him.

 

Yamcha turns.  His heart skips a beat when his eyes light on Goku, waving a hand, smiling, and cradling Puar in his arms.  His friend approaches, giving Tien a nod and Launch a curious glance. Yamcha’s attention is focused on Puar somersaulting in Goku’s arms.  He reaches for his beloved furry friend, finding comfort at last when Puar’s warm body leaps into his arms.

 

“Puar!”

 

“I’m glad I finally found you guys,” Goku says.

 

Yamcha rubs behind Puar’s soft, twitching ear.  “Where’d you find him?”

 

“Oh, Puar?” Goku says.  “He was hiding behind some abandoned luggage. It took a lot of coaxing to get him out.  The little guy didn’t want to move.”

 

Puar purrs at Yamcha, seeking his gaze as if to apologize for scaring him.  Yamcha smiles and strokes his gray fur, assuring his friend that he understands Puar’s fear.  All is forgiven. 

 

He looks into Goku’s eyes.  “Thank you, Goku.”

 

A smile and nod are all he gets in return before Goku’s eyes narrow and turn to the others.  “We need to get to higher ground. The Shenron is sinking.”

 

“We  _ know _ ,” Tien says through clenched teeth.  “We were in the engine rooms when we hit the iceberg.”

 

“Iceberg?” Goku gasps.  “So  _ that’s _ what did it?”

 

Launch props her hands on her hips and scoffs.  “And they told us this ship was supposed to be unsinkable.  An iceberg should’ve been nothin’. Ship of dreams.”

 

Yamcha snorts.  “More like ship of our worst nightmares.”

 

Goku’s eyes pan over the group.  “Where’s Krillin? And Chiaotzu?”

 

Yamcha winces.  He tenses in order to rein in his despair.  He knows Tien, and maybe even Launch, feel Chiaotzu’s loss more deeply than he does.  And yet Goku’s questions are more than a painful reminder of Chiaotzu’s death. His questions also remind Yamcha and the others that they don’t know where Krillin is.  Last Yamcha remembers, Krillin was in their room when Yamcha left for the engine rooms.

 

“Oh,” Launch says heavily, “Krillin.”

 

“Yeah,” Goku says, his voice growing anxious.  “What  _ about _ him?”

 

“He was on a date with that rich blonde,” Launch says, throwing a finger over her shoulder.  “Above deck. He should be fine.”

 

Yamcha knits his brows.  He’s skeptical about Launch’s tone.  It suggests she’s blatantly hiding something.  Tien narrows his eyes at her, and Yamcha  _ knows _ there’s some information they’re not revealing to Goku and Yamcha.  Goku doesn’t seem to notice, though. Instead, his friend accepts this dismissal with a nod and prods the open wound again.

 

“So all that’s left is Chiaotzu,” he says.  “We should find him down here an-“

 

Tien strikes his hand out, latching it around Goku’s arm.  “Chiaotzu isn’t down here, Goku. We should head up.”

 

Goku blinks, clearly surprised by Tien’s reaction.  “O-okay. Yamcha? The lifts are closed. Do you remember the fastest way outta here by stairs?”

 

Yamcha pulls Puar in close to his chest as he nods.  He knows the fastest way up is the hall straight ahead and one turn to the left.  The stairs there lead directly up to the deck, where he hopes to find the lifeboats fully loaded with women and children, possibly even accepting men for boarding.

 

“Come on,” Yamcha says as he brushes past Goku and Tien.

 

He rushes through the hall and makes the turn easily.  He only has abandoned luggage and a frazzled older man to work around.  But after he makes the turn, the situation changes. There is no clear hall, not even a hall with chunky obstacles blocking his path.  The hall is blocked by a crowd of people. Yamcha grunts as he pushes his way in, careful not to harm Puar in the process of skirting around flailing elbows and people who shove him aside as they try to reach the front of the crowd.  He passes not only angry men, but terrified women clinging to crying children as well. Yamcha’s heart swells for them. He can’t imagine why they’re still down here so long after the Shenron’s fate must have been divulged by the crew.

 

The crowd is so dense that Yamcha can’t make his way to the front.  His friends are yelling behind him, questioning what is happening here, but their voices are overpowered by the yells of men and women ahead of Yamcha.  Some men yell profanities while others try to reason. Yamcha cannot understand their words over the wail of one particularly loud woman. He hears a constant metallic rattle, aggressive and sharp.  

 

When he moves aside and his view of the top of the stairs is cleared for a moment, Yamcha sees the problem.  He grunts and steps back as the crowd closes in, again blocking the view of the horrifying sight he’s seen. The gate is closed at the top of the stairs.  It is no accident or oversight, because a pair of crew members stand on the other side of it, reprimanding the passengers for trying to get through.

 

“Yamcha!” Goku says.  “What is it?”

 

“What’d you see?” Tien says, grabbing his shoulder.

 

Yamcha’s lips part, but he has no words.  The crew has been given orders, but apparently those orders are to let innocent women and children die.  They’re not even giving them a chance. By now, the water must be coming in fast. Forget men, though Yamcha had hopes of surviving this disaster.  Now he only cares that at least the just and fair thing is done here. He drops his chin and looks at Puar. At the very least, if Yamcha gets Puar past that gate, he might convince a child or woman to carry the cat onto the lifeboat with them and save  _ him _ .

 

“Oh, no,” Goku says, looking toward the barricade.

 

“Shit,” Tien hisses, baring his teeth.  “This is a dead end. We need to find another way.  Come on!”

 

Tien sprints from the crowd, turning down a new hall.  Yamcha hopes Tien knows where he’s going. He needs a way up that isn’t blocked.  He needs hope.

 

Tien skids to a stop with Launch right behind him.  She grasps his shoulders as Goku turns to gaze up the stairs, toward the voices.  This exit, not a main passage, but an auxiliary path, is locked as well. Men yell at the crew member holding the gate, just as at the other exit.  This one is only less crowded than the first. Yamcha squeezes Puar to his chest and clenches his teeth. It looks like they’re never going to see the outside of this dismal steerage compartment again.


	13. SOS

Bulma presses her back to the wall, panting.  While Vegeta peers around the corner, both of them remain silent.  They haven’t seen Zarbon. The last bullet seemed to have traveled in a completely different direction.  They think they’ve lost him. 

 

Bulma’s tension doesn’t ebb in the slightest, not even when Vegeta eases back with a stoic expression on his handsome face.  Her feet are numb and  _ wet _ .  Evidence of the reality of this ship’s sinking surrounds them, traveling down the halls and beneath doorways in an ominous, icy current.  They’re probably going to die. Bulma is going to die an unmarried virgin, with no one but an angry prince to witness her last words or acts.  No one but Zarbon ever having kissed her. She can’t go out that way. She can come to terms with her death if it has to happen today, but there’s something she has to do first.

 

“We’ve lost him,” Vegeta says.  “I hope he  _ drowns _ .  We need to get to higher ground.” 

 

“Yes,” Bulma says, licking her lips, “but first…”

 

Her heart beats impossibly fast.  She trembles as she cups Vegeta’s smooth-shaven cheeks in her clammy palms.  The thoughts of her impending rejection from this abrasive man, the reproach for what she’s about to do, makes her dizzy.  

 

But she kisses him, all the same.  

 

She doesn’t want to die without knowing a  _ real _ kiss, one that isn’t staged or imposed by social standards.  The moment the smooth sensation of his lips touches her mouth, she knows she’s made the right decision.  Bulma’s eyes close as she marvels at the softness juxtaposed to Vegeta’s hard exterior. He tastes like a fine wine with a hint of spice.  He grunts into her lips and recoils at first, but then he stops. His lips soften. His fingers thread through the hair at the nape of Bulma’s neck, making her skin tingle.  When he pulls his caressing lips from hers, Bulma stares into his wide eyes.

 

“Wow,” she says.

 

Vegeta blinks, shakes his head, and removes his hands from Bulma so fast, she almost thinks she must be on fire.  His eyes are wide and his cheeks are flushed. Bulma’s brow twitches. She sees what he’s doing. Now that she’s felt a connection, she isn’t willing to accept his rejection.

 

“What the hell was  _ that _ ?” Vegeta yells at her.

 

Bulma clenches her jaw.  “A kiss, you jerk. If I knew you’d treat me like a leper, I would’ve saved my last kiss for someone  _ else _ on this doomed ship.”

 

Vegeta scoffs. “Like you have someone else to kiss.”

 

“I  _ do _ ,” Bulma sneers, pointing her finger down the hall, “and in case you forgot, he was only shooting at us a few  _ minutes _ ago!”

 

“Go ahead and call him back here,” Vegeta taunts.  “See what happens.”

 

“Maybe I will!”

 

“Maybe you  _ won’t _ .”

 

Bulma locks eyes with Vegeta and smiles.  “Zarbon!”

 

Vegeta’s eyes go wide before he slaps a hand over Bulma’s mouth.  She winces at the harsh contact. She’s thankful for it, though. She had to step up to Vegeta’s challenge, but at the thought of Zarbon heeding her call, Bulma wishes she hadn’t done that.  Her heart races again as she imagines Zarbon running at them with his pistol. Vegeta moves in closer, the water rippling quietly around his calves as he draws close to Bulma. She closes her eyes, reveling in the warmth of Vegeta’s thick fingers wrapped across her lips.  The water freezes her feet and ankles, but Vegeta’s warm body feels like heaven against her. She’s sure he’s only placed himself this close to restrain her from making another bad move, but she doesn’t mind the restraint.

 

“Why would you do something so stupid?” Vegeta whispers in her ear, his voice husky, his tone ominous.  “You’re not a stupid woman.”

 

He peels his fingers away slowly and meets Bulma’s gaze with intensity in his dark eyes.  The water drips and rushes like a quiet hum around them; there’s not another sound. They are the only two people on this floor, and as far as Bulma is concerned, they may as well be the last two people on Earth.

 

Vegeta’s eyes fall to Bulma’s mouth, rise to meet her eyes, and fall to her lips again before he moves forward.  Bulma lunges to meet him. 

 

When their lips crush together, the kiss is intense, desperate, and unhindered.  They are a tangle of limbs and tongues, hiding their fear behind their passion. They are sinking, likely to die, both too proud to wear their fear on their sleeves.  But in this instant, they can be vulnerable, if only with each other. Tears trickle down Bulma’s cheek as she moans into the kiss. She feels Vegeta’s teeth sink into her lip, his hands crushing her waist as if he fears she might slip away if he lets go.  Bulma sobs, but not because she is scared. She sobs because this is beautiful. It’s tragic that it cannot last. 

 

She pushes Vegeta away, grunting with the effort.  “Enough! We need to move!”

 

Vegeta growls after her as Bulma runs for the nearest staircase.  Bulma knows she stole his line and Vegeta is frustrated with her, but his irritation is adorable. Bulma laughs away her tears as she treads through icy water.  Her gown grows heavy with saturation, but she fights. She fights to stay alive. Her chances don’t look good, not when she knows the lifeboats may all be filled by the time she reaches the deck.  But she has something to strive toward which she didn’t have before. She wants to live in a way she hadn’t when she first boarded the Shenron. She wants a lifetime with Vegeta, her newfound prince.  A moment isn’t enough.

* * *

 

Piccolo’s stomach burns as voices speak at him from left and right, but he hears none of them.  The chaos around him increases with every breath. The sight of water touching his ship’s bow horrifies him as he looks out the front window of the crowded bridge.  There is no use touching his wheel. No point to sending commands to the engine. No point sending anymore SOSs. If help comes, they’ll have to be on their way already.  Even then, they’ll be too late.

 

Footsteps rush in behind him.  “Captain!” Korin says as they hear the boom of the ship’s last flare and the sky sparks to life above them.  “We’ve sent word in all directions, but no other ship is closer than our first response. It looks like the RMS Porunga is our only hope.”

 

“Porunga,” Piccolo says with a sigh, his eyes locked on the fading light in the sky.  “And  _ they _ said four hours.”

 

“Four hours,” Korin says gravely.

 

Piccolo’s eyes twitch with the effort of holding back the tears prickling behind his eyes.  It is certain now. He has failed to transport his passengers safely across the ocean. Some may live, but some, if not most, will perish.  His fate as the captain, the man anchored to this ship as if it is his lover, is set in stone. 

 

Screams and cries pass the bridge at regular intervals.  Footsteps move quickly now, as if the passengers about to die run toward their fate.  The chants of crew members loading lifeboats continue, though Piccolo cannot conceive now why they still limit the admission to women and children.  By now, they must all be loaded. They departed from Europe far too unprepared for this.

 

“I relieve you of your duties,” Piccolo says to his crew.  “There is nothing else you can do now, aside from saving yourselves.”

 

“Captain!” Mr. Dende’s voice calls from the open doorway of the bridge.  “Why are the lifeboats only being filled halfway?”

 

“Halfway?” Piccolo says numbly.

 

Mr. Popo gasps.  “No!”

 

Dende storms in front of Piccolo, forcing him to peel his gaze from the dark waters creeping in on the ship.  “I saw a boat with only twenty people on it. Twenty! Another with thirty-five at most. These lifeboats were built for sixty!”

 

Piccolo bows his head.  His brows furrow with the weight of his grief.  If this has been the practice of his crew this past hour since the loading began, even fewer passengers than he expected will survive.  They - so many of them - will take the icy plunge into the killer waters. He doubts anyone can survive the four hour wait for help.

 

“Let’s go have a look,” Mr. Popo says, patting Dende’s shoulder.  “We’ll order all the crew to load the lifeboats to capacity. Overfill them, if they must!”

 

“Sixty people should be fine,” Mr. Dende says, his gaze so heavy on Piccolo that even as he looks into his future tomb, Piccolo feels the message behind Dende’s look.  “We don’t want to also risk the lives of people who manage to evacuate the ship.”

 

Dende doesn’t have to say goodbye.  Piccolo feels it, as if spoken through telepathy.  He wishes Dende a peaceful death, too. As clearly as he receives Dende’s message, Piccolo knows Dende hears his farewell.  He doesn’t wish Dende luck. He won’t coddle him with pleasantries when they both know what will happen. Dende is as tied to this ship as Piccolo.  He loves it as his child. He won’t let it sink without him anymore than Piccolo will. Their deaths are both imminent, but it brings them comfort, knowing they are not alone.

 

“I’ll be right back, Captain,” Mr. Popo says, turning to follow Dende out the door.

 

“No,” Piccolo says, breaking from his reverie to turn to Mr. Popo.  “You are free to go, Mr. Popo.”

 

“Kami,” Mr. Popo breathes, his eyes widening.

 

“It has been an honor,” Piccolo says with a sad smile, “working with you at my side, my friend.”

 

Mr. Popo’s eyes well with tears.  He removes his hat and presses it to his chest while his lips draw into a thin line.  Piccolo presses his lips together as well. He cannot speak another word. He knows he must stay, but he wants Mr. Popo to survive.  He knows mostly likely, he won’t.

 

“The honor,” Mr. Popo says through quivering lips, “has been  _ mine _ , Captain.”

 

Mr. Popo turns and heads out the door at a grave pace.  He closes the door behind him, slowly, almost reverently.  Piccolo is alone on the bridge. It is him, and the wheel, and his darling Shenron, which should glide atop the ocean for many more voyages, but will instead fall to the bottom of the Atlantic within a few hours.  If Kami Piccolo has to pick any tomb for himself, he is glad it shall be in the majestic ocean, on the vessel which he loves.

* * *

Lapis groans as his sister turns another corner.  They’ve been in these halls for too long. They’re lost.  His feet are numb from the icy waters, and now the numbness seeps to his calves, where the water almost reaches his knees.  If they’re going to get Krillin out of here, they need to do it fast. But that isn’t happening. Lapis wants to leave, but he can’t leave his sister here alone.

 

“Laz,” he says, raising his voice over the rambling current, “there’s no more time.  We need to get out of here now!”

 

“ _ Not _ ,” she growls, yanking on her lavender gown trailing through the water, “without Krillin!”

 

“Lazuli!”

 

“Where  _ is _ he?  Damn Bulma’s directions!”

 

“Hey, listen!” Lapis pleads.

 

“Lapis,” she says, spinning sharply.  “You should go. I won’t make you stay.  But I need to find-“

 

Lapis doesn’t know why she stops talking at first.  But as Lazuli’s eyes travel to the ceiling, he hears a faint voice.  It rings with anxiety, deep enough to be male, too far away to hear clearly.

 

“Krillin!” Lazuli says, whirling around.

 

She moves fast.  Lapis is unable to object or call her back over the rushing water.  He follows her, though he can tell Lazuli is going regardless of whether he decides to stay or go.  Lapis’ eyes dart from the submerging wall to flickering overhead light to floating suitcase drifting past.  He wants to leave, not only to relieve himself of the pins and needles stabbing at his legs, but because he knows they’ll die if they stay down here much longer.  Even on deck, their chances are slim. But Lapis doesn’t want to live on in this world knowing he left his twin to die.

 

“Krillin!” Lazuli calls, cupping her hand to her mouth.

 

“H-hey!”  The voice is just ahead.  “In here!”

 

Lazuli kicks in the nearest door, tearing her dress with the sharp heel of her boot.  Lapis hears the rip and the pound of the door hitting the wall inside before Lazuli goes in.  He folds his arms and steps up to the doorway, but doesn’t enter the room. The relief in Krillin’s voice as he calls Lazuli’s name is touching and intimate.  Lazuli doesn’t even seem to know Lapis is still here. He can’t intrude. He should go. Lazuli isn’t alone anymore; she’s with someone she loves. Lapis can feel it as well as hear it in her voice.  He shivers as the water rises, now pressing against his hip. When an old man, frantic and seemingly blind to his presence, runs past Lapis, splashing Lapis with barbs of cold and turning as if he doesn’t know where to go, Lapis decides.  He needs to leave. 

 

Lapis bites his lip and peers into the room.  He sees Krillin cuffed to a pipe, his wrists submerged in water.  Krillin gestures with his chin toward an empty table, his bottom lip trembling.  As Lazuli dives toward it and shoots a look over her shoulder, her eyes lock with Lapis’.  Lapis narrows his eyes. He meets Lazuli’s mirroring gaze as he smiles. This is goodbye. He knows he may never see his twin again.  She knows it, too.

 

She waves a farewell, a gesture so graceful it doesn’t catch the eye of Krillin, who remains unaware of Lapis’ presence.  They may be down here for Krillin’s sake, because his sister loves him and is convinced of his innocence, but this moment is a moment between the two of them.

 

This is their goodbye.

 

With a deep breath, Lapis recedes from the doorway.  He travels down the hall and turns, quickly now. He wishes Lazuli luck, but that is all he can do for her.  Lazuli needs Krillin and Lapis can see how grateful his sister is to him for helping her rescue Krillin. Lapis only needs to survive.  

 

As water rushes forth from a bursting doorway, surging toward him and hitting his chest with a pressure that freezes and compresses his lungs, Lapis fears he may not even escape this hall alive.  He grits his teeth and presses forward, determined not to let a sinking ship take him down so easily.

 


	14. Sinking Feelings

She found her father exactly where Mr. Dende said he’d be, a reassuring smile planted on his face from the moment he spotted her out here on the deck, in the cold.  And now he’s trying to get rid of her. It’s too soon. Chi-Chi wants to live, but she isn’t ready to abandon ship, not this way.

 

“Over there!” Ox King says, pointing to a searching crewman stationed by a quickly filling lifeboat.  “Chi-Chi, please!”

 

Chi-Chi groans and throws a glance over her shoulder. “Where  _ is _ he?”

 

“If Goku says he’ll come, Honey,” her father says, “he’s coming.  But I’m sure he doesn’t want you to wait here. He wants you safe.   _ I _ want you safe.”

 

“Pa, I know!” Chi-Chi stomps her foot.  “But I’m not leaving without you two! You  _ need _ me!”

 

She frowns when she spies Dr. Gero.  The old man stands alone at the next lifeboat over, without his son or daughter in sight.  He looks around conspicuously and slips something into the waiting hand of the man in green uniform loading the lifeboat with women and shivering children.  Chi-Chi shakes her head, ready to scream at Dr. Gero’s cowardice, until something flutters through the air. It’s his money. The crew member glares and waves Dr. Gero off, refusing his admittance onto the boat.

 

“Chi-Chi.” A wave of warmth envelopes Chi-Chi as Ox King draws her into his broad chest.  “I was looking forward to meeting my grandchildren someday.”

 

“Pa!” Chi-Chi says, struck by his implication.

 

“It’s too late for this old man to see them,” he says somberly, “but I can see to it now that they have a chance to meet their mother.”

 

“Pa, no,” Chi-Chi says, pulling back to look in her father’s warm brown eyes.

 

“Please, Chi-Chi,” he says, his eyes shining, the mist from his breath momentarily clouding his face.  “I need  _ you _ to live on.”

 

“Stop talkin’ like that!” Chi-Chi says, choking back a sob, stretching her arms around her father’s wide shoulders.  “You can’t die!”

 

“I will, Chi-Chi,” he whispers into her hair.  “Look around you. There are still children on deck.  The water line’s drawing closer now. Women like yourself - young people - are the ones we need to live on.  There’s no space for me in those boats.”

 

But Pa-“

 

Chi-Chi cuts off with a gasp as the deck trembles beneath her.  A cantankerous groan emanates from the ship. It’s quiet at first but grows louder and louder as the passengers on deck still.  When the ship quiets and settles, the only movements Chi-Chi sees are the swirls of steam rising off the water and the flashes of light from the ship’s dying electricity reflected in the water below her.  No one moves or says a word until half a minute passes where the ship doesn’t make another ominous sound or movement.

 

As the frantic shuffle resumes among the passengers, Chi-Chi clutches her father tightly.  “Oh, God!”

 

He kisses the top of her head.  “Board a lifeboat. Please.”

 

Chi-Chi dries a tear against the wool vest covering his broad chest. “I love you.  I love you,” she whispers.

 

She pushes away from him quickly, knowing if she holds on any longer, she might never let go.  She  _ wants  _ these children her father anticipates.  She has so many wishes for her future with Goku already planned.  Those dreams can’t happen, not if she stays.

 

Reluctantly, Chi-Chi joins the queue for the next lifeboat.  With every step, every glance, she seeks Goku’s face in the frenzied crowd.  Even as she looks back at her teary-eyed father, who sways to the soothing classical music of the musicians who won’t quit, Chi-Chi expects to see Goku’s handsome face break from the crowd.  When she steps over the side of the Shenron with assistance from a crewmember, boarding the life boat alone, with no husband in sight, Chi-Chi whimpers. This can’t be the end. She doesn’t want the two most important men in her life to only live on in her memories, but as she takes her cold, lonely seat beside terrified strangers, she fears this is the case.

* * *

Tien shakes the metal bars between his fingers with everything he has.  They rattle and whine, but they won’t bend. A crew member stands on the other side, glaring at Tien through these bars separating them from safety.  Tien shakes it again, using a little more strength, hoping for better results. Launch growls over his shoulder. The crew member steps back from the bars.

 

“Come on!” Yamcha yells, his volume causing Puar to crawl anxiously up on his shoulder.  “Open the gates!”

 

“Just head back to the main stairwell,” the crew member says, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he nods, “and they’ll straighten it out for you there.  All passengers are to head to the main stairwell.”

 

Tien roars as he shakes the gate again.  “Open the gate!”

 

“You asshole,” Launch adds, slapping the metallic bars with an open palm.

 

Tien hasn’t failed to notice the way Yamcha looks around as if they’ve lost someone.  Maybe Yamcha suspects that Tien and Launch haven’t been forthcoming about Krillin’s whereabouts.  Tien breathes through his nose and expels the air in a huff. He can’t tell Yamcha and Goku what really transpired with Krillin’s arrest.  Those two would feel obligated to find him and have no idea where to begin to look. Sharing that information would get his new friends killed, and Tien isn’t prepared to be responsible for that.  

 

Krillin might not even be down here. Given the state of the ship, the officer more than likely released Krillin, or is holding him somewhere above deck.  That thought sits better with Tien than Krillin being abandoned on a lower level. His brow twitches as he rattles the gate again, futilely. He knows there is no correct choice with the Krillin situation.  It is sacrifice one friend to save the others, or try to save one friend and sacrifice the rest. He can only hope that Krillin is above, on the deck, where he wishes they all were right now.

 

“If you don’t open this gate,” Yamcha says to the steward, “people are going to die down here, man.  The water is coming in!”

 

“Go back,” the steward repeats, “to the main stairwell!”

 

Tien gulps as he looks toward the base of the stairs behind him.  Yamcha’s right. The floor is wet, cold water slowly seeping in from a lower level.  Those levels lower than this one, where people slept and ate an hour ago, must be nearly or fully underwater.  The thought horrifies Tien, and he quickly suppresses it and focuses on the locked gate in front of him.

 

“Hey,” Launch says, her brows furrowed and voice calm as she turns to follow Tien’s gaze.  “What happened to Goku?”

 

“I’ve been wondering that, too,” Yamcha says, stroking Puar’s back as the cat’s tail puffs and wraps around Yamcha’s arm.  “Where could he have-“

 

Something flashes in Tien’s peripheral vision.  A growl, crescendoing as it comes near, draws the surprised steward away from the gate.  Tien’s eyes bulge when he looks down the stairs to see Goku carrying a large object. It’s a wooden bench.  Goku hauls it toward them with a look of fury in his dark, usually carefree eyes. He moves fast. As his yell grows louder, his speed increases.  Tien bars his arm across Launch’s chest and throws his back against the wall.

 

“Move, Yamcha!” Tien yells.

 

Yamcha yells and clings to the opposite wall of the stairwell, making a clear path in the center for Goku to use his self-made battering ram.  Tien’s heart races as he anticipates the collision. If he wasn’t frightened for his life, he would be frightened of that look in Goku’s eyes. He almost feels sorry for the steward.

 

“Move!” Goku yells before he slams the bench into the gate.

 

The collision is sharp, grating, and invigorating.  The gate doesn’t break, but it bends. Goku pulls back, prepared to strike again.  Tien scrambles past Launch and gets behind Goku, lifting the back end of the bench.  Goku turns and meets his eye, looking surprised, then thankful. Tien nods before screaming and shoving the bench forward with all his might.  It’s hefty, solid, and when it hits the gate, it feels like Tien has been punched in the chest. He bites his tongue from the force, and even though he tastes blood, he is quick to pull back for another attempt.

 

Goku growls.  “Come  _ on _ !  Work!”

 

They thrust it forward again, and though Tien expects to break through, he is again met with teeth-chattering resistance.  

 

“Stop!” The steward yells.  “Stop! What do you think you’re doing?”

 

“Again!” Tien yells to Goku.

 

“Yeah!” Yamcha yells, holding Puar, who tries to spring from his arms.  “You can do it, guys!”

 

The ram hits hard enough to bend the gate this time.  With the rattle echoing in his ears and the series of collisions still vibrating through his fingers, Tien pulls back.  He knows he and Goku will break through this next time.

 

“No!” the steward yells, glancing surreptitiously down the hall as if hoping to find help.  “No, go back!”

 

Goku screams.  Tien joins him, surging forward with all his might.  The impact doesn’t rebound on them this time. The bench sinks through the gate, which seems to give like butter, folding out into the hall.  Tien helps Goku wrestle the bench out of the tangled mess the gate has become. Yamcha and Launch cheer, while on the other side, the steward appears to hyperventilate.  Voices come from behind them, more prisoners detained below now coming to see what all the fuss is about. Tien glances back, hoping to recognize Krillin’s face in the crowd.  No such luck, so he shoves the bench aside and helps Launch through the busted gate.

 

“Come on, Yamcha,” Goku says, leaping through the opening.

 

Tien winces when a child lets out a high-pitched squeal from behind them.  The child is obviously happy they’ve created a path. Adults cheer as well.  A flash of movement catches Tien’s eye by the gate. He whips his head around to see Puar leap from Yamcha’s arms, his feline eyes wide with terror.  Yamcha grimaces as he tries to catch the cat slipping from his grip. Puar’s paws hit the stairs lithely and he takes off in a run - in the wrong direction.

 

“No!” Yamcha shouts.  “Puar!”

 

When Yamcha lunges after the cat, who’s disappeared behind the crowd at the base of the stairs, Tien grabs him.  “Yamcha!”

 

“Let  _ go _ !” Yamcha snaps, turning a glare on Tien.

 

“You can’t go after him.”

 

“I can and I will,” Yamcha says resolutely.  “I’m not leaving Puar behind.”

 

“There’s no time for you to go after a cat,” Tien says, watching the water line rise to an inch along the hallway wall.

 

“He’s more than a  _ cat _ to me,” Yamcha says, “but I don’t expect you to understand that.  The longer you hold me here, Tien, the less of a chance I have of saving him.”

 

Turn releases Yamcha’s shoulders, withdrawing his hands into his chest.  He doesn’t understand Yamcha’s decision, but he won’t make a choice  _ for _ Yamcha. Yamcha’s chosen to risk his own life to save his small companion.  They’re both likely to die now. But if they die, they’ll die together. Maybe Yamcha isn’t wrong.  Yamcha turns away just before Launch calls from the other side of the gate.

 

“Hurry, Tien!” she says.  “Yamcha! What are you doing?”

 

“Yamcha?” Goku says.

 

“Yamcha,” Tien calls, low enough for only Yamcha to hear him.  Yamcha turns and Tien smiles. “If I could go back for Chiaotzu, I would.  I do understand.”

 

“Thanks, Tien,” Yamcha says with a sad smile.

 

“Good luck,” Tien says.

 

“Tien! Yamcha!” Launch calls.

 

“Where’s -“ Goku says as Yamcha turns away.  “Yamcha!”

 

The tumult of the crowd drowns out some of Launch and Goku’s objections, but as Tien turns to them, he can see by the looks on their faces that they understand what Yamcha’s doing.  Their jaws fall, their eyes bulge, and they tremble as Tien moves toward them, leaving Yamcha behind. The closer Tien moves to the busted gate, the more he comes to realize that it’s Yamcha who heads to freedom, not him.  Tien may breach the exterior of the ship and stand on deck to see the starry sky one last time, but he knows he won’t survive this night. He won’t save his closest friend like Yamcha might. He might help Launch and his other friends, but it’s already too late to save the one he really wanted to help.

 

Tien takes a shuddering breath as he paces up the stairs through the crowd, squaring his shoulders back and putting on a stoic face for Launch and Goku.

 

“Tien!” Launch says, her eyes lighting as she reaches through the gate for his hand.

 

“Sorry,” Tien says.  “Yamcha won’t be joining us.”

 

He steps through the gate’s opening.  He doesn’t feel the relief others do when he steps onto the upper floor.  A steward runs down the hall, presumably to assist the other, who’s been mowed down by the crowd of steerage passengers following Goku and Launch out of their self-made opening.  

 

“Puar?” Goku guesses, his eyes searching Tien’s.

 

“Yes.”

 

“I should help him,” Goku says, turning back to the gate.

 

“No,” Tien says sternly.  “He needs to do this himself.”

 

“But-“

 

“Besides,” Tien says with a sly grin, “don’t you have a wife up there waiting for you?”

 

Goku’s eyes bulge.  “Oh, shit! She’s going to kill me!”

 

“Let’s go!” Launch says, sprinting toward the steward rising to stop them with his finger wagging.  “And  _ you _ !”

 

She pulls her fist back.  As the steward rises, Launch’s tiny fist collides in perfect juxtaposition, smashing through the steward’s face.  The hit knocks him to the ground as if his lights were turned out.

 

“Wow,” Tien says, passing over the fallen steward without pause.

 

“Hey, wait!” Goku says, whirling around.

 

“What  _ now _ ?” Launch groans.

 

Tien follows Goku’s gaze to see the crowd filing in behind them onto this floor from the stairwell.  Goku’s eyes are bulged, fixed on a woman with blue hair wearing an elegant dress soaked up to her knees.  She’s stepping through the mangled gate with a man with black spikes of hair, who rips away the hem of her heavy skirts which snag on the sharp ends of the gate.

 

“Bulma?” Goku says.  “What are  _ you _ doing down here?”

 

“Goku?” Bulma skips forward, losing her balance when her skirt tears and releases her from the sharp barb of the gate.  “Hey!”

 

“Vegeta!” Goku says to the man tossing away the remnants of Bulma’s hem.  “Is Zarbon-“

 

“Still running around somewhere with a loaded pistol,” Vegeta says as he rises and levels Goku a glare.

 

As Goku frowns, his alarm is palpable.  Tien knows whoever this Zarbon is, he’s bad news.  Thankfully, the guy isn’t here now. 

 

Bulma brushes her hair from her face, huffs, and smiles at Goku.  “I came to help Vegeta.”

 

“I didn’t need any help.”

 

Bulma shoots Vegeta a smirk.  “Oh? So you’re impenetrable to bullets now, are you?”

 

Tien glances down the stairwell and scowls at the rising water.  “None of us are impenetrable to freezing waters. We’d better move.”

 

Everyone follows the flow of the crowd to the turn off for the next stairwell.  They’ll reach the first class compartments soon, and then the exit to the decks.  Tien hurries to keep up with the others, but he’s in no hurry. It’s relatively warm in these dry halls, but outside, he knows, it’s grown cold by now.  He wants to stay as warm as possible for as long as possible. 

 

“Tien,” Launch says, brushing shoulders with him, “this is serious shit.”

 

“Launch.” Tien inhales deeply, recognizing in her his last chance to save someone who matters to him.  “When we reach the decks, promise me you’ll get on a lifeboat.”

 

“With you,” Launch says quickly.

 

“They’re only boarding women and children.”

 

“I’ll wait until they start boarding men, too.”

 

“Launch,” Tien says with a sigh, “be reasonable. Please.”

 

“I  _ am _ reasonable,” she growls.  “I’m not leavin’ withou’cha, Tien.”

 

As she grabs his shoulder and squeezes endearingly, Tien suspects Launch thinks this discussion has ended.  Her word is final. Tien doesn’t argue with her, but he won’t let her win. This isn’t over. If it’s the last thing he does, which likely it will be, Tien will make sure Launch survives this travesty.

 

He won’t see Launch die like Chiaotzu.

* * *

He has never been so cold.  Krillin doesn’t know whether he even  _ should _ register the biting pain throughout his lower body, up to his chest at this point.  He is mostly numb. Too numb to feel his fingers, but too desperate for escape to not try.  Lazuli found the keys that slid off the table when the furnishing went underwater, but the time her searching consumed cost them dearly.  

 

A chill travels up Krillin’s spine, and he suspects it is not from the cold, but from his elevating horror.  It seems the water rushes in faster now than when it first started. They don’t have much time. Krillin knows he would die down here if it wasn’t for Lazuli.  He doesn’t know why she’s down here in this terrible situation. She could be safe, boarding a lifeboat with the other first class ladies. Instead, she’s placed herself in the most dangerous place on the Shenron.

 

“Why?” he wonders aloud, prompting Lazuli to take her eyes off the keys jingling in her frozen fingers and shoot him a glance.  “Why did you come?”

 

Her chest heaves as she smiles.  Krillin has never seen anyone so beautiful.  The paleness of her skin is complimented by the pink hue highlighting the bridge of her nose, the tips of her ears, the swells of her soft cheeks.  Her blonde hair shimmers beneath the flickering lights losing power these past few minutes. And her blue eyes - they are steadily focused on him. No one has ever looked at Krillin in this way, and no one ever will again.

 

Lazuli brushes a falling lock of hair from her face.  “Isn’t it obvious?”

 

She breaks eye contact just as Krillin realizes what she means.  As Lazuli fiddles with the keys, Krillin’s breathing accelerates.  Warmth emanates from his chest, stretching out to thaw his frozen extremities.  He doesn’t feel the biting cold anymore. Not as Lazuli wades through the water, approaching him with the key to his cuffs pinched between her dainty fingers, her determined eyes set on him.  She’s here because she loves him. In spite of their terrible situation, Krillin has never felt such happiness as he does the moment Lazuli’s hands caress his aching wrists.

 

“Hold still,” she says as her quivering hands work around the mechanism in the cuffs.

 

Her teeth chatter in Krillin’s ears and he realizes his have been chattering this entire time.  He doesn’t know when it started. Maybe when the water first rushed in and soaked through his boots.  A chill racks his body at the mere memory. He receives a warning glare from Lazuli for that and tenses into absolute stillness.  When he hears the click of the cuffs coming loose, Krillin sighs. The weight of the cuffs falls away as Krillin’s eyes track the curves of metal sinking beneath the water all the way to the floor.

 

Lazuli meets Krillin’s gaze and gives him a curt nod.  They need to move. Krillin knows the ship is going down and they’re here at the bottom of it, but there’s something he has to do before anything else happens.  He might not have the chance again.

 

“Lazuli!” he says, pressing his numb palms against her cheeks.  “Wait.”

 

He closes his eyes and does it.  He can’t think about what he’s doing, or he knows he won’t.  As Krillin shifts forward, pursing his lips, he anticipates the feel of Lazuli’s soft kiss.  He fears in that meager second she might pull away or the kiss might not have the feeling he intends behind it, because of how cold and terrified they both are.  But the moment their lips meet, those fears vanish.

 

Lazuli sighs into Krillin’s lips, her breath warming his frozen face and enticing Krillin to draw her closer.  He sweeps his fingers beneath her chin, cupping her face gently as he edges forward, away from the pipe which has kept him anchored to this room for the past hour.  Lazuli’s arms fall on his shoulders, wet and cold. Krillin doesn’t mind. The heat from her body warms him so quickly he can no longer think of her as cold. Lazuli, with her soft lips and tepid breath, may as well be the sun.  She is Krillin’s everything.

 

Lazuli pulls away, smacking her lips.  “Krillin... _ wow _ !” she says with wide eyes as Krillin pants and presses his fingers to his tingling lips.

 

“You know I never stole from your father,” Krillin says insistently, needing to know that she knows this is real.

 

“Of course I do!  That’s not you, Krillin!”

 

Smiling, Krillin seizes Lazuli’s hand, breaking from his swelling joy with the sudden urge to protect her.  “Let’s get out of here!”

 

He tugs Lazuli by the hand and trudges through the icy water.  Each splash hits him like a dart, so sharp a sensation that he may as well bleed from the cold. He allows those barbs to continue hitting him, though, because enduring this pain is the only way to save Lazuli.  Krillin doubts he can save her or himself, but he’ll die trying. He’ll never leave her side again. The water rushes in as he rounds the corner into the hall with Lazuli’s hand held tightly in his.


	15. Acceptance

Vegeta is tired of these halls and stairs and turns.  At least Vegeta ditched that Goku and his pathetic friends when he turned off in another direction. Actually,  _ Bulma _ turned off in another direction, needing to seek someone out and retrieve something from her state room, and Vegeta was happy for the excuse to part from the obnoxious crowd they’d acquired.  Even now, as they reach the hallway finely decorated for  _ his _ class of people, he wishes to be done with it.  He cannot appreciate his surroundings, because he knows all of it will be gone soon.  Sunk at the bottom of the ocean with the rest of the Shenron and dead passengers. Vegeta  _ won’t _ be one of them.

 

When Bulma comes to a dead stop in front of him, Vegeta nearly crashes into her.  He steps back from the puddled prints she’s left in the carpet from the train of her drenched gown.  He assumes she’s found her room, but that doesn’t excuse her abruptness. She could’ve  _ warned _ him she was stopping.

 

“What’s the big idea?” Vegeta snaps.

 

“Mom!” Bulma unfreezes, throwing her arms wide as she lunges forward.  

 

Another woman’s arms wrap around Bulma’s shoulders, and Vegeta realizes why Bulma has stopped.  He clenches his jaw and draws back, too awkward to face the parents of the engaged woman he practically molested downstairs a moment ago.

 

“Dad!” Bulma turns to her left.

 

Her turn reveals an old man standing by the wall with a cigar, who nods and peels the cigar from his lips to give Vegeta a friendly smile.

 

“What are you two doing in here?” Bulma scolds.  “Mom, you should be on a lifeboat by now!”

 

Vegeta prods Bulma’s lower back.  “ _ We _ should be getting on a lifeboat by now.”

 

“Dad!” Bulma stomps her foot.  “Why haven’t you brought mom to the decks?”

 

It occurs to Vegeta that he  _ could _ leave her here, conversing with her seemingly senile parents.  He is free to save himself. He doesn’t know why, but he doesn’t.  It’s as if his feet are nailed to the floor. He growls under his breath, telling himself to move, but at the moment his foot lifts from the ground, his eyes rise to Bulma’s disheveled blue hair, her flushed cheek, and he sets his foot lightly on the ground.  He can’t do it - because of her. He can’t possibly have  _ feelings _ for this woman he just met.  Vegeta scoffs to himself, yet he can think of no other explanation for why he willingly stands here, risking his life so as not to abandon her.  

 

He gasps and whispers, “Oh, God.”

 

“Oh, honey,” Mrs. Briefs says with a smile, pressing a hand on Bulma’s shoulder while Dr. Briefs pets a black cat hanging on his shoulder.  “We decided to stay.”

 

Vegeta scratches his cheek while tension fills the air.  These people are crazy. That is the only explanation for what he just heard.  Unless he misheard her. But judging by Bulma’s reddening face and narrowing eyes, Vegeta suspects he heard right.

 

“You... _ what _ ?” Bulma screeches.

 

“Now, Bulma,” her father says, blowing smoke with the utterance of her name, “don’t be so upset.  Your mother and I are doing what’s best.”

 

“What’s  _ best _ ?”

 

A white creature scurries into the hall, making Vegeta’s skin crawl as it comes toward him, until Mrs. Briefs scoops it into her arms and snuggles it to her cheek.

 

“You see?” Mrs. Briefs says.  “We can’t leave our babies. There’s no room for them in the lifeboats, and so-“

 

“You’re going to die?” Bulma growls, before whipping around to glare at Vegeta.  “ _ You _ talk some sense into them, your highness.”

 

“Your highness she calls you,” Dr. Briefs says to Vegeta, laughing.  “Ah, Bulma. You might like to know Zarbon is well. Your mother and I saw him pass by here, not too long ago.”

 

“Not too long ago?” Vegeta says quickly, his interest piqued.  He pushes Bulma aside to meet the old man’s gaze. “When? When was he here?”

 

Dr. Briefs takes a drag off his cigar and looks at his wife.  “When would you say, Dear? Ten minutes ago?”

 

“I suppose,” she says as she bends to pet another cat winding its tail around the skirts of her chiffon gown.

 

Vegeta scoffs.   These people are useless.  And they’ve decided to die.  Zarbon is out there, on the deck before they are.  Vegeta has no time to waste in here. He seizes Bulma by the hand and tugs her.

 

“Wait!” Bulma says.

 

Her tone is so quick and hesitant that Vegeta concedes.  He can tell she means to come with him and knows better than to waste his time.  She hurries past her parents and turns into an open room. It isn’t long before she returns, tucking a rolled parchment beneath her arm.

 

Vegeta raises a brow when she comes to him.  “What’s-“

 

“A surprise for you,” she says, blushing and sparking a challenge in her eyes at the same time.  “When we make it off this ship alive, I’ll give it to you.”

 

“When?” Vegeta says, a smirk pulling at his lips.

 

Bulma gives a curt nod.  “When,” she says definitively, before turning to her parents.

 

She throws her arms around her mother, then kisses her father.  They hum and smile, too content to feel fear. Vegeta cannot imagine what that is like.

 

“I have to go,” Bulma says.  “I wish you two would come.”

 

Her father smiles and pats the head of the black kitten meowing on his shoulder.  “Not a chance. We belong with them all.”

 

“Good luck, honey,” her mother says, waving her gloved fingers in the air.  “Who’s the handsome man she’s with?” she remarks to her husband as Vegeta turns away.

 

Vegeta feels heat rush to his cheeks, knowing the remark is about him, but he doesn’t turn around.  Bulma doesn’t either. He turns to her to say something, but when he catches the tears welling in her eyes, the words catch in his throat.  Bulma hides them well as they run to the outer deck. She masks her face with determination and doesn’t let a tear shed until they emerge into the crisp night air.  Vegeta is gripped by his need to stay silent, to give her space as she mourns. When Bulma’s one precious tear finally falls, she is able to disguise it as a physical reaction to the cold, batting it away as she casts Vegeta a smile.  Vegeta frowns when their eyes meet, but doesn’t question Bulma. He knows how she feels, unable to save her family.

 

He gnaws his bottom lip, which cracks and chaps in this bitter cold.  He wishes he could think of something to say or do next, but instead he stands here, shoving his hands in his jacket pockets, grimacing.  When warmth seizes him, he gasps. He’s prepared to knock someone’s head off until Bulma’s quivering breath flutters against the collar around his neck.  As Bulma’s hands slide around his waist, Vegeta pries one hand loose to wrap it over her shoulder. His eyes dart around the decks. At first he is concerned of who might see them like this.  His concern is quickly forgotten when he’s struck by what a catastrophe he sees out here. It’s almost worse than it was below decks. The only improvement up here is that everyone is dry. The water won’t take long to reach them, though.  And the tangible fears of all these people coming together in desperate prayers, sobs, and shouts of contempt, racks Vegeta’s body with the greatest grief he’s ever felt. This is worse than any misery Frieza’s ever caused. This is hundreds of people trapped together, knowing they are about to die.

 

“Vegeta?” Bulma whispers.

 

“Women and children only!” shouts the crew member several paces in front of them loading the nearest lifeboat.  

 

Vegeta clenches his jaw and hugs Bulma tightly.  “We need to get you on one of those boats.” And hopefully, but doubtfully, find Vegeta a way out of this hell, too.

* * *

Lapis is freezing his ass off.  He stands on a lower deck with his arms crossed, looking left and right while he hears the mayhem above him and watches a lifeboat descending into the ocean beside him.  He doesn’t know what he’s looking for. A way out? That’s impossible. The best place to be when this ship takes its plunge into the ocean? He’s never seen an ocean liner sink.  He has no idea which location on the ship is best. Maybe he’s looking for his sister. He thought she’d be up here by now. 

 

The fact that he hasn’t seen her is alarming.  Now he regrets leaving. He’s no better off up here than he was down there.  The lifeboats are only for the women and children. The ship is going down too fast.  They won’t have time to board any men. The decks are loaded with hazards: metal beams and pipes, windows which will shatter, decks which will splinter as the ship bends.  The cabins will flood, including the gorgeous state rooms still loaded with priceless possessions. 

 

When the ship is no longer an option, the open waters won’t be much better.  Wearing his life vest, Lapis has less chance of drowning, but nothing can save him from hypothermia and death, aside from the arrival of a rescue ship.  He knows not to rely on that.

 

A scream.  Lapis snaps his gaze to the lifeboat now hung slightly below his level, where the passengers stare up with fear in their eyes.  A woman cries as the crewman on the lifeboat clutches the rope lowering them and pulls out a knife. Lapis leans over the iron rail and peers above him.  The base of another ship is only a few feet up, drawing down quickly. The people in the lifeboat are about to be crushed. The crew man works quickly, sawing the rope.  Lapis reaches into his blazer and retrieves his pocket knife, heading to the other side. A woman in the lifeboat casts him a thankful glance as he throws himself across the gap between the ship and the lifeboat, reaching for the rope.  It’s threads chafe against his palm as he works the knife, but Lapis works with determination. Strings snap one by one, but the ship above them still lowers. A woman stands and pushes her shoulders against the crushing boat, straining with her teeth clenched as she tries to lift it.

 

“Oh, God, please!” another woman cries.

 

The rope snaps.  Lapis watches the lifeboat drop and the evident relief on the passengers’ faces.  He pushes off and steadies himself on the deck, grasping the railing for support. Lapis drops his knife into the ocean while the crew member continues struggling with his side of the rope.  As the imposing lifeboat drops, the crewman’s rope finally breaks with a snap and they drop together with cries of relief and fear. Lapis’s eyes go wide when the first boat falls out of view and the higher boat now hovers across from him.  In the boat is not only women and children, but a wrinkled old man with a white beard and grimace of terror on his spiteful face. 

 

Lapis gasps and steps back from the old man who hasn’t seen him.  His stomach churns. The man more responsible than anyone for this disaster sits safely in a lifeboat, while hundreds of people, Lapis included, will most likely die.  Dr. Gero’s insistence that this ship move faster has to be the cause for this crash, which under normal circumstances, could be easily avoided by an adept Captain like Kami Piccolo.  Lapis is stranded on this ship, this sinking vessel, watching the man who sunk it cower to safety with the women and children. Lapis growls. He’s tolerated a lot from his father over the years, but now he knows he won’t live past this night.  He’ll do them all a favor. He’s going to put an end to the evil genius who’s delivered them to this swift end.

 

Lapis’ eyes dart side to side.  Among the passing passengers and crew members, he knows a long range weapon can’t be far.  When a gentleman with a braid and wet slacks approaches, whom Lapis vaguely recognizes from the first class dining rooms, Lapis smiles.  He smiles because he spies the weapon he needs, protruding and shimmering from where it’s tucked inside the man’s jacket. He lunges for it in so swift a motion, the gentleman hardly reacts.  With nothing to ward him off but a sneer, Lapis pries the weapon from the man’s jacket and turns the pistol on his father.

 

Now, Dr. Gero’s eyes meet his.  In this brief instant, time seems to freeze.  Lapis revels in the terror spreading across the old man’s face.  He knows by now, his sister should be up here, and yet she isn’t.  She has no chance of making it off this ship alive. Lapis blames his father for her death.  He blames his father for his own death, which comes closer with every passing moment, the window of his life closing too soon.  If he has time for one final act, he is glad it is this. He doesn’t know if it’s more for himself or Lazuli, or even the man she came to love or the other passengers onboard, or maybe nothing more than spiteful vengeance.  But when he pulls the trigger, Lapis is at peace.

 

The explosion causes an uproar from the terrorized crowd.  Screams and the stampede of footsteps across the deck drown out the noise echoing in Lapis’ ears.  Someone grabs him, but Lapis hardly feels the restraint. He lowers his gun and watches blood ooze from the wrinkled lips of his old man.  The red blood stains Dr. Gero’s white mustache which moves along with his lips, mouthing to Lapis a question. Lapis doesn’t acknowledge what his father asks, because Dr. Gero already knows the answer.  He knows  _ why _ he has to die.  Lapis is glad, because the old man can no longer deny himself of the guilt he should feel.  In these last, bleeding moments, Lapis has forced the old man to confront all of it. Lapis exhales and steps back.  His balance shifts and he nearly falls over. A person gripping him holds him steady, so he doesn’t fall as his father does, off the side of the lifeboat.

 

“Lord!” a woman in the boat cries, falling over the edge of the lifeboat to watch the corpse fall into the ocean.  She sits, fanning herself. “When will this nightmare be over?”

 

Lapis closes his eyes.  When indeed, he asks himself.  The fear of enduring this situation for any length of time grows greater than the fear of death or how it will find him.

 

Lapis tightens his grip around the pistol in his fingers.

* * *

Everyone is still frightened by the bang, though there was only one shot and they hear no more.  From this side of the ship, Chi-Chi can’t be sure if it was gunfire. She knows her heart is racing, but she doesn’t fear a bullet.  She fears this dramatic descent into darkness. The lower levels of the ship have lost power, so the closer to safety she comes in this little lifeboat with this crowd of strange women, the more darkness falls around her.  The further she moves from Goku, or ever seeing her father or her husband again.

 

Chi-Chi searches each deck she passes in her descent.  People scurry to and fro on every one, but not one of them wears Goku’s handsome face.  Maybe it’s better she doesn’t see him. She wouldn’t like to see the look of terror the rest of them wear etched into his features.  She wrings her numbing fingers together as she glances up, catching sight of her father’s relieved face looking down on her. It won’t be long before she hits the water, and what then?  She’ll sit in the dark boat, drifting from the Shenron, watching the terror and screams as the faraway ship takes its plunge into the abyss. She doesn’t know that she can just sit there while it happens.  She begins to pant as she realizes she can’t bear the idea.

 

The lifeboat lowers again, throwing Chi-Chi off balance as one line lowers faster than the other.  The crew members above call orders to each other, commanding for the left side to lower, and now together, their voices drifting further away.  Chi-Chi closes her eyes and says a silent prayer. She knows Goku is still on the Shenron, and judging by the proximity of the water line to the center of the ship, he isn’t getting off - not on a lifeboat, at least. There isn’t enough time.  The men on board are all destined to sink or swim when the Shenron goes down.

 

When Chi-Chi opens her eyes, a new level of the deck is in front of her.  New passengers look back, including one who looks familiar. It’s him. Chi-Chi rises with a gasp, not caring that she rocks the boat or that the other inhabitants cry objections at her.  It’s him. It’s really Goku running across the deck with his friends. He doesn’t look scared at all, but determined. 

 

“Goku!” Chi-Chi calls.

 

The second his eyes meet hers, Chi-Chi knows what to do.  She doesn’t need this lifeboat. She doesn’t need safety and warmth and comfort while the people she cares about are submerged in danger.  She needs to be  _ with _ them.

 

She steps on the bench seat in front of her, her heel hooking the smooth wood while the women sitting there part the way so as not to be caught beneath her.  Chi-Chi lunges. She catches Goku’s stunned gaze as she flies through the air, crossing the gap between the lifeboat and where Goku stands on the Shenron’s deck.  When she lands, throwing herself into Goku’s arms, Goku gasps. His breath flutters against the fine hairs on the back of her neck as Chi-Chi presses herself against him, enjoying the sensation of his warmth.  For a moment, she thought she might never feel this again.

 

“Chi-Chi!” Goku cries.  “What are you doing?”

 

“Oh, Goku,” she says, burying her face in his chest, “I was so worried!”

 

“You were worried?” He places his calloused hands on the side of her face and pulls her from his chest to meet his gaze.  “Chi-Chi, are you crazy?”

 

“Crazy?” Chi-Chi snaps, narrowing her eyes. “Goku, you’re my husband.  I’m not leavin’ you behind.”

 

Goku squeezes her to him as he sighs.  “Chi-Chi.” He kisses her forehead. “This is so stupid.”

 

Chi-Chi smiles.  All she hears is ‘this is so wonderful’, because she knows she made the right choice.  Nothing ever felt more right. They may be on a sinking ship, but they’re on it together.  She can die as long as she knows she’ll be in Goku’s arms.

 

“You’re gonna live, Chi-Chi,” Goku says with an edge to his voice as his arms crush around Chi-Chi protectively.  “I won’t let you die tonight.”


	16. Numb

Yamcha shivers as he drags his knees through the icy water of the vacant, darkening hall.  His legs weigh like lead while his head pounds from the noises of rushing water and occasional distant screams.  He doesn’t know from where the screams come, but every one of them feels ghostly and final. This flooded hall feels like death.  He needs Puar in his arms. He needs to bring his pet above deck before it’s too late, which he fears won’t be long at all.

 

“Puar!” he yells, his voice drowned out by the rush of water.  “Puar! Come on, Puar. Where are you?”

 

He stops.  He swears he hears something, though he can’t decipher whether it’s the trickle of the ocean water running against an anomaly in the wall, or the sharp mewl of his cat he hopes to hear.  He presses his lips together as he stills. He doesn’t move a finger, but that doesn’t stop the noises surrounding him. He takes a step in the direction where he thought he heard the sound, then stops again.

 

There’s a distinct meow.  Yamcha steps forward, faster now, and coos the name, “Puar?  Here, Puar. Here.”

 

His eyes dart across the hall, where a flash of white catches his eye.  It’s only an abandoned lifejacket, floating over the rippling waters now reaching Yamcha’s hip.  He pants as he steps forward again, not only at the realization of how stupid it is to be down here at a time like this, but at the coldness cutting through his body.  It’s like his insides have been doused in ice water. His extremities are a numb, lost cause. He doesn’t know how he’s still walking, but he doesn’t stop. An open door waves and ebbs with the artificial tide caused by the influx of water this ship’s taking on, and with it, a furry tail rolls against the door’s edge.

 

“Puar!”

 

Yamcha lunges forward to find Puar hidden around the corner, perched on a shelf lining the length of the abandoned room’s interior wall.  He sees instant relief in the cat’s eyes. Without any further coaxing, Puar leaps into Yamcha’s arms. Yamcha squeezes Puar to his chest.  His cat trembles violently and meows pitifully.

 

“It’s okay, Puar,” Yamcha says as he strokes Puar’s back with a wet palm and turns his eyes toward the nearest stairway.  “I’ve got you.”

 

He knows that’s a lie.  He  _ has _ Puar, but no one has  _ him _ .  Things are far from okay.  They’re likely going to die down here, trapped beneath a sinking ship.  However, Puar doesn’t need to know this.

 

Yamcha presses on, fighting the chattering of his teeth as he cuts a path through the water and nuzzles against Puar’s warm body and fur pressed under his chin.  He looks up from the surface of the water to the end of the hall and freezes. His breath catches in his throat. There is a set of closed double doors at the end of the hall.  Water trickles in through the creases outlining it. On the sides of the door and  _ above _ the door, the water flows into the hall, indicating the mass of water putting pressure on the set of doors.  Yamcha gulps and steps back. He can’t go that way. He has to  _ run _ in the other direction, because when that water breaks through its dam, Yamcha and Puar will be drowning in it.  He needs another way out - and fast.

 

Yamcha pants as he spies another staircase.  An eruption of water flow and the slam of the double doors sound from behind him.  He doesn’t dare stop to look back at the freight train rolling toward him. It sounds massive and fast, making his heart leap from his chest.  As he rounds the corner to the stairwell, the water licks at his heels and sweeps through the hall, six feet of dense, solid water barely missing him.  Yamcha gasps and clings to the rails of the stairwell until his knuckles turn white. Puar screeches in his ear as the water fills the stairwell, nearly reaching his chest.

 

Yamcha heaves his legs up each step and raises his gaze to the top of the stairwell.  His throat clenches as his mind conjures the image of the closed gate he found at the other stairwells.  When he sees an open invitation to the upper floor, he exhales heavily and closes his eyes. Yamcha leaps to the upper floor and runs down the dry hall, determined to reach the deck now.  He passes through the interior of the ship one level after another until he reaches the first class section. It’s eerily vacant, like all the other floors, but with this fine decadence beyond Yamcha’s comprehension abandoned, it’s all the more striking.  He’s tempted to take something, but moves on into the first class dining room, knowing it’s the fastest way to the deck, where he won’t be able to hold onto a stolen valuable. He’ll have to fight for his and Puar’s lives, because he doesn’t expect others to give way for him and make this easy out there.

 

At the base of the stairs in the grand dining room, he stops.  It’s a mesmerizing sight, the shiny ornament hanging where the stairs split to ascend to the upper level, but it’s not the only reason he stops.  This is the first time he’s crossed another soul still inside the ship. Mr. Dende doesn’t move or even look at Yamcha, though he must’ve heard his footsteps.  The architect stands with one arm bracing his weight, his hand placed almost solemnly on the ornamental spherical clock inlaid with shimmering stars, his eyes closed, his brow twitching.

 

“Mr. Dende?” Yamcha says.

 

Mr. Dende sighs.  His head sags below his shoulders.  His fingers flex around the smooth edge of the vivid orange centerpiece of the Shenron.

 

Yamcha makes a hasty step toward the exit.  “Mr. Dende, we should go.”

 

“I’m not leaving,” Dende says, his voice soft but resolved.  “I designed the Shenron. I won’t let it go down without me.”

 

“What are you talking about?” Yamcha exclaims.  “You can still make it. If you-“

 

“No,” Dende says sharply, turning his eyes on Yamcha’s.  “No, I won’t make it. But that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t.  Good luck to you,” he says, shifting his eyes to Puar as a sad smile crosses his face, “and you, too.  Please...leave me here.”

 

Yamcha gulps.  He’s never had to leave someone behind like this, not when he’s had the chance to do something about it.  The wailing and shouting outside makes the situation sound imminent, but right now, the ship only gently creaks.  With him, Puar, and Mr. Dende the only souls in this grand room, he feels a moment of calm. He doesn’t want to leave Mr. Dende.  But when he looks into the man’s eyes, he knows there is no arguing with that resolve. Yamcha clutches Puar tighter.

 

He nods.  “It’s not your fault, you know.”

 

Dende turns his eyes back on the lovely ball decorating the wall.  “It’s no one’s fault. We had an excellent Captain. He and his crew did all they could.”

 

A chill creeps up Yamcha’s spine.  The way Mr. Dende refers to everyone in the past tense, as if they’re already gone, unnerves him.  He bites his lip and steps toward the exit with his free hand, his left clenching to secure Puar against his ribs.  He needs to find a way to survive. If he can’t do that, he’ll settle for making sure Puar lives.

* * *

Lazuli huffs as her arms cut through the water at her chest, aiding her forward progress against the powerful current.  Krillin propels off his feet with a grunt and swims forward, passing her while Lazuli clutches a nearby doorframe. She grounds her feet, but the water is so powerful that she is nearly knocked backwards.  She refuses to lose ground. The water is coming in too fast for this. They need to get out of here, and now. This level of the ship will be completely underwater in a few minutes, if not seconds. She just wishes she’d known her way around these halls better.  She wishes Krillin hasn’t been taken away to such a dangerous place. She blames herself for this. If she’d said something to defend him sooner, they might not be down here at all. 

 

Krillin groans and presses a palm against his head.  “No good! This way’s blocked, too!”

 

“No!” Lazuli grits her teeth and proceeds past the stairwell they’d hoped would be the way out.  “This way, Krillin. There has to be one damn gate that isn’t locked down here!”

 

The water pushes Lazuli back, causing her to cry out.

 

“Lazuli!” Krillin’s hand envelops hers, pulling Lazuli forward.

 

Lazuli meets Krillin’s gaze with a strained smile.  She’s never seen such terror in someone’s eyes before.  She looks away from Krillin and focuses on seeking another opening for a stairwell.  There are several on each level, and she thinks they’ve traveled far enough now from that last one that they should be coming to the next one soon, but she only sees closed doors and perpendicular halls.  if another rush of water occurs, she suspects the hall will flood completely. They need this stairwell and they need it now.

 

“Th-there!” Krillin says, pointing a trembling finger to the opposite side of the hall.

 

Lazuli follows the line of his finger with her gaze and huffs.  Her breath frosts the air as if she’s standing outside in winter.  She shouldn’t feel this, any of it, in the halls of one of the great Shenron’s decks.  She swallows down the moan in her throat and reaches her icy hands to the stairwell opening.  As she lands her foot on what she thinks is the first step, Lazuli looks back at Krillin. She reaches for him as he struggles against the rising tide to reach the stairwell.  Water rushes past him and whirls in a current around his form. Krillin grunts and tugs on Lazuli’s hand. His body presses against hers. 

 

Lazuli feels merciful heat rise to her cheeks at Krillin’s warm contact.  “Good. O-“ she cuts off when she spins around.

 

A gate, gray and lattice-patterned and locked like all the others, bars their exit.

 

“Dammit!” Krillin says, slamming his fist against the water’s rippling surface.

 

Lazuli cringes at the cold water that splashes her face and shoulders.  Krillin’s desperate panting echoes off the water’s surface and the compressing walls and ceiling surrounding them as Lazuli realizes  _ she’s _ panting, too.  Lazuli lunges for the locked gate and tries to wrench it open, but no matter how much she wrestled with it, it screeches in protest to her ministrations but doesn’t budge.  The top step was dry when she stepped on it. Now water rushes over her toes.

 

Krillin’s shoulder brushes up beside her as his hands wrap around the bars of the gate.  “Help!” he shouts. “Help! Can anyone hear us?”

 

“Help us!” Lazuli yells, pressing her face against the cold bars.

 

She cranes her neck to see as far as her eye can see in either direction down the hall.  It is vacant. It is dark. Straight ahead, she can see the next set of stairs, lighted by the next level above, and it infuriates her because she can’t reach it.

 

“Help!” Krillin yells as a storm of footsteps echo off the walls.  “Hey! Hey!”

 

He meets Lazuli’s gaze with shock equal to what Lazuli feels.  Water rushes up the stairs now, reaching Lazuli’s knees. The man running past on the other side of the gate doesn’t stop.  

 

Lazuli shakes the loathsome iron with all her might.  “Stop! Let us out!”

 

She gasps at the icy sensation of the water climbing up the length of her skirt, nearly submerging her on this upper step as much as she was in the lower hallway.  Pressing her face against the cold, hard metal, she meets the wide eyes of the steward on the other side of these gates. 

 

His eyes dart to Krillin and back to her. He turns and runs.  “I’m sorry!”

 

“No!” Lazuli says.

 

Krillin kicks the gate, which rattles sharply.  “Bastard!”

 

Lazuli inhales sharply as the water rises to her rib cage.  “Krillin.”

 

“Lazuli, no!” Krillin says, shaking his head.  He rattles the gate again.

 

“I’m glad my brother went up ahead of us.  Do you think he made it?”

 

“Yeah,” Krillin says, his expression softening as he issues Lazuli a smile she doesn’t believe.  “I think he made it to the deck. I’m sure Goku and the others made it, too.”

 

_ But they won’t survive _ , Lazuli thinks, knowing Krillin’s thinking it too.  She gnaws her bottom lip and stares at Krillin’s handsome face, which the water rises as if trying to touch.  It will touch him soon enough, and then, it’ll be over for them. There is no way out. Lazuli hates her father for causing this.  She loves Krillin for everything else.

 

The water compresses her chest like a vice.  Krillin’s dark eyes are large and dilated. He pants as if hyperventilating before Lazuli seals his trembling lips with a kiss.  The shock of cold presses against their chins as Krillin’s arms wrap fiercely around her and their tongues twine together. A tear rolls from the corner of Lazuli’s eye when she parts from his just enough to say, “I love you.”

 

“I love you, too,” Krillin says, peppering her with desperate kisses as the water overwhelms them.  “Oh, God, Lazuli!”

 

His last words.  The water swallows the rest of them.  Lazuli sinks her fingers into Krillin’s back as the surge of water tries to tear them apart.  She won’t let him go. She’ll never let him go. Her lungs burn for oxygen as Krillin’s body racks against hers.  Her heart wrenches with the knowledge that he must be suffering, until his hand caresses her cheek in a gentle reassurance.  Lazuli gives into the instinct to gasp for air, taking in the water that strangles her and hardens her insides as she reciprocates Krillin’s hold with a reassuring touch of her own.  She didn’t want to die so young, but if she has to now, she at least can be content the last thing she remembers is being wrapped in Krillin’s arms.

 

* * *

 

Lapis’ ringing ears drown out the shouts and chaos surrounding him.  He feels a surge of panic from somewhere outside of himself, and then, numbness.  It isn’t until he feels aggressive fingers tugging him by the arm that Lapis remembers where he is.  He’s in this hell, waiting to discover the way in which he’ll die. Another sharp tug prompts him to look at the man prying the pistol from his fingers.  It’s the master at arms, looking smug. The vindictive glare Lapis receives tells him Officer Cell won’t give him any leeway. 

 

“He - he shot him!” a man shouts from the crowd.

 

“I  _ know _ he did,” Cell growls, baring his teeth at Lapis.  “Now, what to do with you?”

 

“I suspect nothing,” Lapis says, reaching for his pistol, “seeing that-“

 

Cell rips the pistol from Lapis’ grip with a growl. His pistol-gripped hand pulls back before Lapis feels a flash of pain in his head.  A chorus of gasps surrounds him as he falls to the deck. His bottom hits the wood planks with a thud as Cell lumbers over him. Growling, Lapis massages his throbbing temple with the heel of his hand and sends Cell a glare.  He’s just killed one man. He’s likely to die here. He has low hopes of ever seeing his sister again or her needing him. He has nothing to lose with  _ this _ guy.

 

Lapis lunges and clasps his hand around the pistol and pulls the trigger.  Something rips through him. He hears the two gunshots  _ afterward _ .  A wave of screams rises from the crowd on deck and aboard the nearby lifeboats as Lapis falls to his knees.  He clutches his burning chest and feels the wet hot blood pouring through his fingers as he looks up at Cell.  The man’s broad jaw is gaping, his eyes dazed. 

 

A second later, Cell falls.  Lapis chuckles and hisses as a twinge of pain shoots through his chest.  Cell moans in agony, falling back against the green iron guard rails. Lapis is helped up by a stranger, who supports his head at just the right angle, as if the stranger knows Lapis wants to watch this bastard die.  Cell and his father were both the cause of Lazuli’s descent below the ship, where Lapis is certain now she has perished. It’s only fitting that Lapis causes both their deaths in return. He ignores the placating rambling from the stranger putting pressure on his wound as he watches, through the blurring gaze of his gaze, Cell’s eyes drift closed.  His father’s dead. Cell is dead. Lazuli and Krillin are dead - he knows it because he feels like a part of him is gone.

 

Lapis closes his eyes, grateful to be spared the hours of torment that is likely to continue for the other passengers.  There is nothing else left for him.


	17. Breaking Point

Tien feels aghast.  He should be dismayed by the hundreds of people running and screaming, the deck beneath his feet loosing an ominous groan, and the lifeboats on the deck disappearing as he watches other boats move toward the dark horizon, to a safety he won’t reach.  Instead, it is the tearful reunion in front of him that causes the lump in his throat. Goku’s wife sprinkles him with kisses as her eyes well with determined tears, while Goku wraps his arms around her, staring speechlessly toward the horizon. Launch stares at them.  Tien frowns at her.

 

He arrived on this upper deck with the intention of saving Launch.  Now he knows after what she witnessed from Chi-Chi, there’s no way he’ll convince  _ Launch  _ to abandon them on this ship.  He grinds his teeth until Launch meets his gaze.

 

“What’s wrong, Tien?” she says.  This seems to pull Goku and Chi-Chi back to reality, their eyes turning on him.

 

“Oh, Goku,” Chi-Chi says as she wrings her fingers in the sides of her fancy dress.  “What are we going to do?”

 

“Tien!” Launch says, grabbing his wrist.  “We gotta get to higher ground!”

 

“Higher ground?” Tien says.

 

Goku’s eyes flash and he smiles.  “Yeah!”

 

When Goku pulls Chi-Chi by the hand and gives Tien a nod, Tien raises his hand.  “Hold on. You two go ahead. I need to speak to Launch alone for a moment.”

 

Launch gasps.  “Tien?”

 

Tien raises his chin at Goku’s hesitant frown.  “Go on. Don’t wait for us.”

 

Goku shares a dubious glance with Chi-Chi, who looks even more worried than he does.  “Okay,” Goku says slowly. “If you say so. I wouldn’t wait, though.”

 

Tien gives them a tight-lipped smile.  “Be safe, you two.”

 

“You, too,” Goku says resolutely, turning his smile on Launch.

 

He nods and turns, leading Chi-Chi by the hand, who runs along with him up the deck toward the rear of the ship.  He’s going in the right direction. The bow is descending. When Tien strains his vision to see the front end of the ship, it disappears beneath the water.  The wood beneath his feet visibly bends. It groans as the planks shift under pressure. He looks around, noticing the last viable lifeboats descending around him.  What remains on the deck above would be useless to him, turned on their sides, tied by thick, knotted ropes still to the Shenron. There is no time to fiddle with them.  There is no time to stand here, either. Tien clenches his fist and turns to look down into the boat descending into the water just off the side of the ship. It is loaded with crying women and children.

 

“Tien, what do you have to say?”  Launch says. She waits while Tien knits his brows, debating whether he can do what he needs to do.  “Tien! We should follow them.”

 

“Launch,” he says as he snaps his gaze at her, prompting the beautiful blonde to gasp as her eyes go wide.  “I won’t make it off this ship alive.”

 

“Tien!”  She punches his shoulder.  “You don’t know that!”

 

“I’m not following Goku and Chi-Chi,” Tien says resolutely, his gaze shifting to the hindered lifeboats on deck.  “I have a job to do.”

 

Launch follows his gaze and scowls.  “Let someone else do it!”

 

“No, Launch.”

 

“Then I’m stickin’ with ya!” Launch says with a firm nod.

 

Tien smiles.  “I knew you’d say that.”

 

His hand shakes as he reaches for her long curls hanging over her shoulders.  He threads his trembling fingers through the silky strands of gold, watching intently as they slip through his fingers.  He doesn’t know which is harder - doing what he’s about to do now, or what he’ll do shortly after. He expected, in comparison, that  _ this _ would be the easy part.  Now, as he looks into her eyes, so devoted and full of unwarranted trust, his throat goes dry.  In spite of the cold surrounding them, his hands begin to sweat. 

 

Something snaps inside the ship, a terrible sound of shattering and breaking on the interior that is far too unnatural to occur by human means.  As the ship groans and the water at the bow swallows more of the ship, Tien pushes aside his fears. He slides his fingers through Launch’s hair and cradles her neck, pulling her in close.  When he kisses her, he tastes the salt of her tears. He didn’t know she’d been crying, but as she gasps and quivers, clutching his free hand, Tien realizes this intimidating woman feels fear as much as he does.  Maybe she knows, too, what this is about. He doesn’t hold back anymore, but deepens the kiss, knowing this feeling will be the last pleasant sensation of his life. He will go down helping others because he doesn’t know any other way.  He can’t live a life without Chiaotzu, unable to realize the plans and dreams they’d made together. As Launch’s warm tongue slides against his lips, Tien grips the back of her neck tighter and exhales. He pulls his lips from hers to press them fully against Launch’s cold cheek, apologizing with his second kiss for what he’s about to do next.

 

Tien holds Launch firmly as he pries his hand from her grasp and slams his fist into her temple.  She grunts and falls into his arms. Tien watches as her eyes, laden with shock, close. He holds her close as he steps toward the iron rails.  He lifts her beneath the knees and lower back as he steps up on the rail, balancing carefully on the rocking, tilting ship. People watch him now, concerned about what he is doing, but too distracted by their current situation to question him.  The only people who will be affected by this are the people in the lifeboat. They seem to know this as Tien looks down. They all cling to the sides of the small boat, forming a clearing in the center. Tien looks sadly at Launch’s pretty, unconscious face one last time before tossing her overboard.  

 

The people below, though they knew what was coming, scream as Launch lands.  She is aboard the lifeboat safely, albeit with some minor bruises from the impact.  But she’ll live. She won’t freeze. She won’t drown. She won’t remain trapped like Chiaotzu did.

 

Tien gives the women fanning Launch an appreciative nod, despite the fact that one of them glares up at him.  He turns for the deck and rolls up his sleeves. He points to a crewman in green uniform, who struggles futilely with an overturned lifeboat.

 

“You!” Tien says.  “Forget that boat! Let’s get to the top deck and find men to work together and turn this over!  Let’s get the rest of these women off this ship!”

 

“All right!” The crewman claps his hands and rubs them together briskly.

 

He expels his warm breath into them before running for the stairwell at the end of the deck with Tien on his heels.  At the top of the stairs, Tien spots a lifeboat tied to the deck. The crewman runs straight to it. Stepping over a bundle of rope, Tien rounds to the other side of the lifeboat.  He ignores the cold nipping at his bare forearms as he slips his fingers beneath the boat, feeling for the coarse fibers of ropes. The angle of the deck becomes more severe, nearly knocking him off balance as he pulls out his knife.  He slices through the taut rope, takes a deep breath, and lifts. Peering past the rising lifeboat hull, Tien sees something behind a crate cornered in the boat deck. A small pair of watery eyes looks back at him, a lost child wedged beneath the ship supplies.  When the child squeezes the stuffed teddy in his arm and sniffs, a bead of freezing snot leaking from his button nose, Tien knows he’s exactly where he needs to be. He beckons the boy forward with his eyes and heaves on the lifeboat with all his might. The feeling of rope cutting into his fingers means nothing as he has no longer need to regard himself.

* * *

 

Bulma presses a palm to her pounding head as she watches the scene unfolding.  Chairs slide across the tilted deck. As people cry out and step aside to dodge the furnishings plummeting into the ocean at the ship’s bow, she watches the lifeboat begin loading - likely the last lifeboat that will make it off this ship.  By her calculations, judging by the rate at which the Shenron’s deck takes on water, there will be no more time to successfully lower a ship in the water which hasn’t begun the loosening of the ropes. There won’t be any time for a lifeboat to drift far enough away to escape the suction that will come with the massive ship’s sinking.  Bulma shivers and crosses her arms, just imagining being on one of those little boats at that fateful moment.

 

“What are you waiting for?” Vegeta growls at her.  “Get in!”

 

Bulma angles him a look.  “Excuse me?”

 

“Will you just get in the damn boat?”

 

“Are  _ you _ getting in the boat?”

 

“Am I a woman or child?”

 

She knows his question is sarcastic, but a smile tugs at Bulma’s lip before she answers, “no.  But if you’re not leaving this ship, then I’m not either.”

 

Vegeta’s narrowed eyes dart to the descending front of the ship, then to the back, where people run as if it’s much safer over there.  Bulma supposes it’s human nature to move  _ away _ from the source of danger, but the truth is, any position on this ship is a dangerous one.  It’s large enough to house over a thousand people and sinking. These people are all about to take a plunge into these freezing waters.  They’ll be submerged in a chaotic sea of thrashing limbs and needle-like pressure closing in around them once the Shenron disappears beneath the surface.  She frowns, wondering now  _ why _ she’s arguing against getting on the last lifeboat likely to save her.  She bites her lip as her eyes light on Vegeta’s handsome face, his brow twitching as he looks at her.  She wants him on the lifeboat, too.

 

From behind Vegeta, a man runs toward them.  Bulma is prepared to yell at him and defend their position by the boat until she recognizes Yamcha.  “Yamcha!”

 

“Bulma!” Yamcha envelops her in a warm hug, which feels especially nice when fur nestles beneath her chin.  “Before you get on the boat,” Yamcha says as he pulls away and thrusts the source of the warm fur toward Bulma, whose wide eyes stare back at her, “can you take Puar?  Please?”

 

Bulma’s lips part as she stares back into Yamcha’s eyes.  The cat’s gray tail sways through the air, brushing Yamcha’s arms before falling between them, as if gravity, or the weight of what’ll happen to him if he stays on this ship, pulls it down.  Bulma’s eyes lock with the desperate feline’s and all the will is sucked out of her. She can’t be responsible for this innocent creature’s inevitable death. She takes a sidelong glance at Vegeta, whose brows are knit, his dark eyes fixed on Yamcha and unreadable.  When his eyes turn to meet her gaze, Vegeta’s jaw clenches.

 

Bulma swallows down the dryness in her throat.  “I...I...can take him. Of course, Yamcha.”

 

Bulma reaches for the cat, whose weight settles in her outstretched arms before she curls him into her chest.  She can’t resist the urge to hum and nuzzle her cheek into his soft fur. When she looks up at Vegeta, feeling apologetic, she sees the relief evident in his eyes.  He hardens his gaze the moment he notices she’s looking at him, but that doesn’t stop Bulma from knowing how content he is with her leaving this ship. She still hates to leave them.  She may never see the friends she made here again - she may never see Vegeta again - and that frightens her more than sinking with this ship.

 

“Vegeta,” she says softly.  “Are you going to be-“

 

“Don’t worry about me,” Vegeta says as he scowls at the deck, refusing to meet her gaze again.  “I don’t  _ need _ a lifeboat.”

 

“Yeah,” Yamcha says, patting Vegeta’s shoulder, “we’ll be fine.  We’ll look out for each other.”

 

Bulma detects a barely-discernible flinch from Vegeta.  She frowns and strokes her hand through Puar’s long fur to calm the cat’s uneasy movements in her arms.  With a sigh, she looks from Vegeta to Yamcha, and back to Vegeta again. She’s not convinced they’ll help each other.  Yamcha seems sincere enough, but Vegeta hasn’t said a word to suggest he’ll do anything but look out for himself. Bulma bites her lip as she realizes she hopes he does.  If he wastes any energy helping others, he might not survive this night. Just when Bulma’s found her real Prince Charming, she might lose him. Selfishly, at this moment, she only wants to be reassured that  _ he’ll _ survive.

 

Vegeta meets her eyes with a knowing look and nods sharply.  “I’ll be on the rescue boat when it arrives.”

 

Bulma feels her lips curl into a grin, which stretches from ear to ear.  As she turns for the lifeboat, screaming at the men lowering it to halt and let her in, her heart thumps in her chest.  She believes Vegeta. She doesn’t know how he’ll pull it off, because frankly, as she looks toward the front of the ship, this looks horrifying and impossible.  Her stomach drops along with her as she sits in the lifeboat hastily, allowing the panicked men to lower it. Her eyes fix on the line of water overwhelming the shiny deck she’s been pacing these past few days.  The darkness of the night is reflected in this ominous water coming in much too fast.

 

“Bulma!” Yamcha calls from a few feet away.  She follows his voice to see him leaning over the green iron rails tilted at a forty-five degree angle from the water line below her.  “Good luck!”

 

“You, too, Yamcha!  Be safe!” 

 

She wraps her fingers around the soft pads of Puar’s front paw and flaps it, causing him to wave to his master.  The motion doesn’t take much effort on her part. It’s almost as if the cat cries out for Yamcha as he mewls and presses his paw forward.  Bulma wraps her arms around Puar and hugs him close, finding comfort in his warmth and mutual despair. She takes a sidelong look at Vegeta, who runs past Yamcha in an upward climb to the Shenron’s slowly rising rear.

 

A lump wedges in Bulma’s throat as her boat plummets faster, the crew members and men above in a hurry to get this boat launched from the main ship now.  Chilling air blows across Bulma’s face and rustles her hair as the lifeboat hits the water with a rocking impact. When Bulma clutches the sides of the boat for stability like all the other women aboard, she finds none.  Her insides are a torrential disaster as her boat pushes away from the ship.

 

Gasps sound from the women beside her while Puar purrs quietly in Bulma’s arms, vibrating against her chest.  Bulma looks up from her new furry companion to the towering wall of ocean liner flashing with interior lights from its many windows.  

 

A wave of darkness falls over her.  

 

Shrill screeches, not quite screams, emanate from her tiny boat and the other lifeboats beyond them.  They are afraid not of the fall of darkness, but of the noises emanating from it. Shrill screeches of metal, the screams of men descending as if falling to their deaths, monstrous groans of the ship itself bending into the rushing waters.  Bulma realizes she’s rocking in her seat. A flicker of light crosses the cocked deck of the ship, showing Bulma a glimpse of the Atlantic swallowing the mighty Shenron from bow to center.

* * *

Kami isn’t scared.  He is the master of this ship, and if it’s this ship’s misfortune to go down, then he wills himself wholeheartedly to share that fate.  The floor tilts forward, tugging Kami Piccolo with a wave of gravity. He leans over the pegged wheel, tempted to succumb to the ocean’s pull, to fall into the whirling waters rushing up to the glass in front of him.  A roar rushes through his ears before the sharp shatter of glass breaks through. Shimmering shards fly through the air and cut through his skin as he clenches the wheel with both his hands. He anchors his feet and ties himself to the ship with all his might as he takes his last breath.  As he is engulfed from all sides by water that cuts his skin sharper than the glass, Piccolo tenses and closes his eyes. As the bridge implodes around him, an explosion sounds from behind, midship. Piccolo lets go. 

 

The Shenron breaks along with its Captain.


	18. Adrift

The snapping midship runs through him like a lightning strike at close range.  Yamcha takes a shuddering breath as he dodges a massive cylinder falling off the supporting mass of the ship imploding beneath it.  A man a few feet away doesn’t move as fast. With the monstrous boom of the cylinder landing, the man’s life is snuffed out. Yamcha winces and looks away, already too sickened by recent events to stomach the sight of fresh remains.  Men scream. Women less fortunate than their cohorts who have made it off the ship, cower. Ironically, classical music continues to play amidst the screams and sounds of destruction. Yamcha cautions a glance toward the pleasant sound in the midst of the chaos and sees that the musicians make no attempt to run, but cringe as they cling to their instruments and struggle through playing them as if the music will save their souls.  Maybe the musicians have the right idea.

 

Men and women run as cables snap across the deck like massive guillotines.  No one knows which way to go. There is no place safe on the Shenron. But the most instinctive way to run is up.  Away from the water. 

 

Yamcha presses his lips together as he turns his gaze to a flash of movement - a man careening overboard into the water.  Yamcha’s eyes bulge as he takes in the bald head and muscled physique within that quick glance, the man looking like Tien.  Yamcha turns and runs as the ship emits an ominous rumble. It groans so loud, the noise could likely be heard for miles if there were any ships within range to hear it.  Yamcha sees Goku and Chi-Chi up ahead, nearly reaching the rails of the back end of the ship. Narrowing his eyes, he throws himself forward and leaps over a chair sliding along the deck.  He needs to get away from the source of the groans. 

 

Someone tugs at his waist, pulling him away from where he wants to go.  He shoves the person off him. He runs against the steepening, slippery incline of the deck.  With a grunt, Yamcha swings his arms and seizes a railing before the inclining ship can force him to take a hurdle into the icy waters catching up with him.  As he pulls himself up, wrapping his arms and body around the rail, Yamcha realizes he isn’t going to reach the back end of the ship. Yamcha gulps, relieved that Puar is free from this ship.  He won’t have to watch what is about to happen to his master. Because Yamcha knows, as he watches another flailing body whiz by him with a scream passing him and tapering off like a distancing train, he is about to die.  

 

He climbs past the rail, losing his footing as his shoe slips out from under him, unable to find purchase on the nearly vertical deck.  He screams in surprise. He falls, reaching and grabbing for anything he can. His stomach jumps in his throat as gravity takes him down.  His fingers make purchase on something, but it detached its firm base from the ship before his momentum is stopped. His balance shifts and he finds himself fighting not to somersault headfirst into the churning abyss of icy water below him.  

 

His hands still flail and reach desperately.  He’s only been falling for seconds, but it feels like he’s experiencing this in slow motion.  The hard tug of something seizing him and shooting him upright takes Yamcha by surprise. He gasps as he tightens his grip around whatever it is that delays his fate of landing in that water.  Splashes accumulate below him. More and more people fall, screaming, and their screams are all cut off abruptly when the shock of the water hits them and consumes them.

 

Grunting, Yamcha flexes his bicep and pulls himself up.  His face contorts into a tight grimace, his teeth grinding with the effort.  Even in this cold, sweat beads and trails down his forehead. The sweat in his palms makes his grip loosen.  He cries out as his fingers slide, one hand falling free. As he tries to swing his hand back up to meet the other, water rushes toward him from below.  Faster and faster it rises now. His fingers on the other hand slide. He is hanging by his fingertips when the water draws near enough for him to feel the spray of icy water.  With a grunt, or a cry, or some semblance of a sound that conveys his defeat, Yamcha feels his fingers slip. The water overtakes him before he has the chance to scream. It closes around him so fast, he feels as if the air is  _ sucked _ from his body, the subarctic sensation feeling like it burns rather than chills him.  His throat convulses and his eyes and mouth fly open. He inhales the waters which now destroy him from the inside and out. Everything looks like blackness.

 

When he stops struggling, Yamcha realizes he did things right when he was alive.  He saved his closest friend, Puar, which is a greater outcome in this terrifying end than he could’ve expected.  If there is such a thing as another chance at life, he only hopes he can be surrounded by wonderful friends like he was in this life.

* * *

Vegeta’s eyes widen when he spots Goku’s familiar face.  He can’t catch his breath, which freezes and leaves him in a mist with every huff of his uphill run.  But he sees Goku at the back end of the ship, holding the railing, securing his arm around the waist of his woman barred from falling by the iron guard rail.   _ That’s _ the place Vegeta needs to be.  He will run to it if it kills him.  

 

This ship is going down and every pathetic being on this side of the rails is going to take a dive into that iceberg-infested ocean even before  _ Shenron  _ does.  If the drowning doesn’t kill them, it’ll be the freezing.  The best chance of survival is staying out of the waters as long as possible.  Somehow, that idiot knows that. As Vegeta runs, he passes one falling person after another meeting his gaze with terror-stricken eyes.  He hopes to recognize Zarbon in one of them, but has no such luck. He doesn’t hesitate for them, but with each fallen person, he feels a twinge of remorse.

 

This ship of dreams is the biggest fuck-up Vegeta has ever seen.  If he survives today, he wants to have every person involved with the building of this thing (who isn’t dying on it now) fired.  He grits his teeth as a loose cable swings at him. He bats it away with his arm before it can hit his face. It stings, but he shrugs it off as nothing.  He knows he’s in for a lot more pain. With a growl, Vegeta sets his eyes on the rear rail - his goal. Goku meets his gaze, his eyes wide and alarmed. As Vegeta bears down and struggles against the sliding deck and the intensifying lull of gravity, Goku visibly cheers him on.

 

Vegeta averts his gaze, not wanting to make it because  _ he’s _ cheering for him.  But he can’t deny that it helps.  He feels a rush of adrenaline as the churning waters pursuing him grow louder.  The deck tilts again, inclining too sharply for him to hold his footing any longer.

 

“Come on, Vegeta!” Goku yells.

 

Vegeta snaps his gaze to the voice and sees a hand extended, reaching for him.  He can’t reach it from here but-

 

He leaps.  It’s a leap of faith, as well as desperation.  If Goku fails to latch onto him, he’s doomed to fall into the raging waters swallowing up all the people and debris of the ship.  

 

When his palm hits something warm and solid, which wraps around his knuckles, Vegeta gasps.  His body lurches against the impact. His legs swing as he catches his breath. He looks up into Goku’s eyes, which spark with as much determination as Vegeta feels.  Vegeta growls as he heaves himself upward with every fiber of his being.

 

“Oh, Goku, don’t drop him!” the woman clinging to Goku yells.  “Help him! Hurry!”

 

Vegeta grits his teeth, even more determined now to get up by his own volition.  He sends a glare to the dark-haired woman and moves his hand from Goku’s to the rail he can now reach.  As he throws his torso over and struggles to get his legs up, he has to stop to bat away Goku’s hands.

 

“I can do it  _ myself _ !  Keep your dirty hands away from me.”

 

Goku’s hands recoil while Vegeta kicks his legs over.  When he settles his weight on the supportive rails and turns his glare on Goku, the third class man is smiling at him.

 

“Moron,” Vegeta scoffs.

 

Anyone with the audacity to  _ smile _ in this situation has to have nothing working between his ears.  Every one of them is in for hours of suffering and fighting for their lives now, if not a swift, untimely death.  But Goku is brazenly smiling at him.

 

“Oh, God,” the woman breathes, her voice quivering.  “Oh, God, Goku!”

 

Vegeta glances away from the rising, bubbling waters edging near them, to see the woman with her fingers wrung around the iron rails.  Goku throws his arms around her and lowers his chin, bracing for impact.

 

“It’s okay, Chi-Chi,” Goku says.  “Just hold onto me. Don’t let go.  You  _ can’t _ let go of me, okay?”

 

She nods fervently.  “Okay.”

 

Vegeta grits his teeth and narrows his eyes at the water, so close he could touch it now.  So close he can feel the cold coming over him like a wave. He refuses to tremble and cower before it like the women.  He’s prepared to face it, whatever the outcome may be. 

 

* * *

When Launch opens her eyes, she thinks the nightmare has ended.  She hears no screams and sees no chaos. Everything is dark, calm and tranquil aside from some hushed gasps around her.  She rubs her throbbing temple, her curls moving softly against her frozen cheek as she strains her eyes to make out her surroundings in the darkness.  Before she can distinguish the shadowy figures around her, Launch knows she hasn’t left the ocean. She feels buoyant, the wooden surface beneath her rocking ever so slightly.  She recognizes now that there are women around her. One woman, old and short, stares intensely past Launch. Launch sits up and bats her unruly hair from her face. Now she hears the screams.

 

Hundreds of them.  

 

Voices carrying in the wind from a distant location.  She’s in a lifeboat. She looks out beyond the stretch of dark water to see what looks like a school of pirhana leaping at the ocean’s surface.  But it’s the Shenron's passengers, she quickly realizes. It’s the white swells of their lifevests and the splashes caused by their flailing arms she sees.  People are drowning out there. They have to be freezing. Launch feels a chill crawl through her spine just thinking about it. 

 

She whirls toward the screams and cries for help, rocking the boat as she shouts out, “What happened to the Shenron?”

 

“Sit still!” a young woman cries shrilly.

 

As Launch hits her with a glare, the old woman grunts. “At the bottom of the Atlantic.  It’s gone.”

 

“No!  Tien!” Launch cries, looking around at the other boats floating nearby.  “Where’s Tien?”

 

No one answers.  A sense of foreboding falls over Launch.  She looks at the old woman beside her. Her hunched shoulders are draped with a wooly blanket beneath her straw-like gray hair.  Shuddering, she meets Launch’s eyes. Launch bares her teeth, angered by these people’s comforts around her which seem unfair and wrong, given what those people in the ocean are enduring.  Her growl rising in her throat, Launch rips the woman’s soft blanket away from her and tosses it into the ocean.

 

The old woman flails her arms.  “What do you think you’re-“

 

“Baba, are you okay?” a young woman asks the old lady.

 

“What is wrong with you people?” Launch yells, rising to tower over every befuddled person cowering beneath her.  “Someone’s gotta get out there and help Tien!”

 

She falls into her seat, her shoulders trembling violently as reality darkens around her.  She’s furious. Because Tien is dead. She knows he is. She can feel it in her bones. His death leaves a hole in her, an ache she fears she’ll never be able to fill. She barely knew the man, but for the short time she knew him, she felt more alive than she ever has.

 

One last blast echoes through the night.  A spark blazes through the sky, sending a beam of light zooming over all the gathered lifeboats and the swarm of drowning passengers.  It explodes high above, sending a blanket of falling light cascading over them, momentarily highlighting the fright on all the faces of the lifeboat passengers.

 

When the flare goes out, Launch closes her eyes.  She almost wishes she had drowned with him.

  
  
  



	19. The Wait

Vegeta is too stunned to swim.  He doesn’t know which way is up or down.  He only knows every way is cold. Every movement is painful.  He may as well be in a sea of needles puncturing him with every subtle movement.  His head pounds as a rush of water courses through his ears like a roar. Something pulls on him as he tumbles through the water.  His instinct is to swim against that force. It’s all he’s known all his life - fighting against the monumental powers trying to drag him down.  As he surges toward what he  _ hopes _ is the surface, kicking frantically and ignoring the burning in his lungs which insists on him gasping for air, the numbing sensation coercing his limbs to quit on him, his mind struggles the hardest.  He cannot comprehend every window, every plank of deck, every room and light and valuable stored in that massive ocean liner, taking this plummet along with him. Not to mention the bodies. The passengers.  The amount of people enduring this same struggle he is who most likely won’t breathe another breath.

 

When pressure is released from him and the roaring movements of water morph into the gathered screams of a suffering crowd, he takes the greatest gasp for air he’s ever taken.  He doesn’t feel relief until his first exhalation. He feels he’s just conquered one monster, only to be faced now with a new one. Limbs flail and smack him while sharp barbs of ice water prick at his face.  He can’t move more than a few inches before someone is on top of him, trying to use his head and shoulders to keep their greedy selves afloat, to drown out his life in favor of their pathetic ones. Vegeta screams and pounds at the water around him, determined not to let that happen.  The more he moves, the more he feels pain in his frozen limbs. The less he moves, the more he sinks into the icy water - the more likely he is to die. He’ll suffer over death any day.

 

Vegeta keeps struggling.  He refuses to die.

* * *

 

Goku can’t find Chi-Chi.  He couldn’t hold onto her when the ship took them under.  He’s lost in a maze of thrashing, screaming people, and he can’t find  _ her _ .  He hasn’t caught his breath yet.  The experience of going down with the Shenron still has his mind in a whirlwind.  The frantic swim to the surface that followed still has his lungs feeling like they’ll never suck in enough oxygen.  If it’s this bad for him, he doesn’t want to imagine Chi-Chi’s struggle. He refuses to think the worst. He can’t find her because she’s not nearby.  That’s it. He just needs to swim a little further.

 

“Chi-Chi!” he calls.  His voice is drowned out by the hoarse screams surrounding him.  “Chi-Chi!” he tries, louder.

 

His eyes widen.  He winces from the sprays of cold water hitting his face, the strange hands coming down hard on his shoulders.  He thinks he heard his name, but it’s hard to tell with all the desperate calls for other names. 

 

“Chi-Chi!”

 

“Go-!”

 

He blinks.  He heard it that time.  It was low and muffled, punctuated before she uttered the second syllable, but Goku would never fail to recognize his name in her voice.  He whirls around, spraying the people around him too busy with their own treading and yelling to give him a reprimand.

 

“Chi-Chi!”

 

He knows he’s moving in the right direction, but there’s no response from her.  His anxiety mounts. His heart, already pounding out of his chest, beats impossibly harder.

 

“Chi!”

 

Goku’s throat tightens when he spots her.  Her hand flies out of the water as if reaching; her black head of hair bobs beneath the surface.  The life jacket around her shoulders seems to be the only thing supporting her as she lifts her chin above the surface and gasps for air.  

 

Goku rushes forward, sinking his fist into the next person who tries to come between him and his wife.  He’s going to kill that man hanging on Chi-Chi if he doesn’t let her go.

 

When he swims toward her, cutting his arm across the surface of the water and sending a tidal wave over the people around him in his haste, Goku inhales sharply at the sound of Chi-Chi’s growl.  Her hand emerges from the water again, this time in a fist, and comes down with intent. It hits its target, sending the man clinging to her swirling through the water, away from Chi-Chi. His agonized groan and failure to turn back to Chi-Chi tell Goku Chi-Chi hit him pretty good.  The man seeks a new victim now to provide him a life vest.

 

Goku shakes his head, watching after the man, angered by what he’s witnessing here. This isn’t humanity.  This is a bunch of people acting like animals. Given the desperation he feels welling to the surface, he gets where that’s coming from.  He snaps his gaze to Chi-Chi. He needs to do something or they’re both going to die. They’ll freeze to death in this water. Already, Goku’s lost all sensation in his fingers and toes.  His arms and legs feel the prickle of numbing sensation. It won’t be long before his organs start to feel the pain from his freezing blood. He clenches his teeth, suppressing a whimper. As bad as it looks for him, for Chi-Chi, it’s even worse.  Her tiny body can’t withstand the hours ahead of them in this water. He needs to get her warm.

 

“Gok-ku!” Chi-Chi calls as her dark, terror-filled eyes land on him and she lunges for an embrace.  “What - what do we do? I’m f-freezing.”

 

Goku squeezes Chi-Chi to him with one arm, the other working in sync with his legs to keep him afloat.  As his feeling in his appendages fade, he knows his chances of staying afloat fade with it.

 

Chi-Chi yelps as her entire body dips below the surface.  Goku’s weight is too much for her life vest to handle. Goku lets her go and pans his gaze across the thrashing sea of people surrounding him.  The voices and bodies carry on as far as his eye can see in every direction. It’s unbelievable. He swallows down the lump forming in his throat at the thoughts of the implications of this.  He needs to focus now on survival. Saving Chi-Chi is his top priority. His eyes light on something wide and flat that bobs in the water.

 

He swims to it and pulls Chi-Chi by the arm. “Over h-here!”

 

She gasps but doesn’t lag behind.  She’s right beside him when they finish the short swim to the piece of floating furnishing.  With its ornate carvings, it looks like a wardrobe or door from first class. Goku hopes whatever this is, it’ll hold Chi-Chi’s weight.

 

He gives her a nod.  “G-get on.”

 

Chi-Chi’s eyes are locked on his as she nods, though her gaze tells him she isn’t happy with this plan.  He holds the furnishing stable as she climbs, her limbs pulling from the water with curtains of ice dripping from her gown.  It’s an uncomfortable experience with more cold striking Goku’s face and his frozen fingers stabilizing the panel shifting under Chi-Chi’s moving weight.  The panel settles as she lays across it. Goku sighs.

 

“N-now y-you, Goku,” Chi-Chi says.

 

Goku shakes his head, his teeth chattering too violently to utter a protest.  “W-won’t work,” he finally spits out.

 

“T-try.”

 

“N-“

 

“Try!”

 

Goku grimaces at the harshness of her voice.  His limbs go rigid, causing him to unwillingly sink beneath the water.  He gives a strong kick and bursts through the surface again, his head now feeling like it’s in a vice from the cold.  He shakes it off as he reaches toward an apologetically smiling Chi-Chi, who no longer looks too fierce to approach. When he pulls his weight onto the makeshift raft giving Chi-Chi sanctuary, it begins to sink beneath the water.  A couple inches, and then it tilts. Goku gives a final pull and the whole thing flips over, knocking them both back into the water with a resounding splash.

 

“C-can’t,” Goku says as he wipes water from his eyes.  He gestures to the floating wood. “Y-you.”

 

Chi-Chi narrows her eyes.  Goku thinks she’s going to object.  He can’t have that. She won’t survive in this water.  He can be strong. As long as he keeps moving and doesn’t let any muscle still, he can hold out until help arrives.  He glances at the lifeboats in the distance. They have to come for them. There’s room on those boats. The one Chi-Chi jumped out of had plenty of empty seats.  With a sigh, he looks at Chi-Chi again, conveying insistence with his gaze.

 

Chi-Chi climbs back onto the floating wood without another word.  Goku is so relieved to see her up and out of the water, he doesn’t even mind the icy splashes to his face this time.  Her hand, cold, but not as cold as everything else around them, wraps around his.

 

Goku looks up into her eyes.  Even in this darkness, with her nose and ears red from the cold - the rest of her skin pale in the starlight - her eyes hold so much life.  They sparkle so hard he can feel the love coming from her. It’s more than he ever thought he’d deserve.

 

“Just h-hold on,” Chi-Chi says, tightening her grasp.  “The lifeboats will be here s-soon.” She lowers her head on the makeshift raft.  “The-they’ll come ba-ack around f-for us. They- they’ll b-be here.”

 

Goku gulps and relishes in the warmth of Chi-Chi’s trembling hands wringing around his.  He can’t feel his legs at all now, but he tries to keep them moving. He hopes he’s still kicking when the boats arrive.  He gazes up at the stars overhead when he thinks of the very real possibility that he won’t be.

* * *

 

“We have to go back!” Bulma exclaims.

 

She’s on her feet now, handing off the cat who’s been warming her lap to the person beside her, looking out on the sea of people who thrash and scream less frequently now.  The others wouldn’t budge when the Shenron first went down. She’d relented, because they had a point. Those people would’ve swamped the lifeboat and taken them all down. There were too many of them, too frightened and desperate to survive.  Now, gravely, there are less of them. Those still adrift in the open Atlantic are losing energy, expending everything they have to stay afloat. They won’t survive without help.

 

“Come on!” Bulma says, stomping her foot when no one responds.  “People are dying out there!”

 

A woman breathes as if hyperventilating, her scared eyes meeting Bulma’s.  The woman now holding Puar looks away, peering into the darkness of the ocean off the side of the life boat.  Only one person, in another life boat to their left, dares to respond to Bulma, and it’s not in support. When Bulma hears his voice and snaps her gaze that way, Bulma’s entire body goes rigid.

 

“No,” Zarbon sneers at her.  “We will  _ not _ go back for those people.  You have to be crazy to think they won’t take us down.”

 

Bulma shakes her head.  This can’t be. Of all the people dying tonight, Zarbon has to be one of the lucky few who were spared from the water.  She narrows her eyes at him, and he narrows his green eyes right back. He doesn’t look beautiful to her anymore. Now, he looks like a monster, a beast.  She doesn’t know what she ever saw in him. She can’t believe anyone would object to coming to the rescue of people who need their help. She doesn’t know how anyone can hear the same screams she’s heard for the last thirty minutes and not feel guilty staying here.

 

“Hold on!” another voice yells from a boat behind them.  “What are ya talkin’ about?”

 

“Stay out of this!” Zarbon snaps, his glare fixed on Bulma.

 

A woman waves her arms in the air.  “You said we should go over there? Yeah, we have to!”

 

Bulma gasps.  She casts the determined blonde a thankful smile.  She thrusts her finger forward, meeting the bewildered look of the crewman holding the oars as she turns.  The man blinks as Bulma gives him a nod.

 

“All right!” she says with a smile.  “Lets go! There’s no time to waste!”

 

“Hold it!” Zarbon says.  Something clicks before he’s pointing something at Bulma.  Her eyes widen when she recognizes the silver sheen of the pistol.  “This life boat isn’t moving  _ anywhere _ .  You sit back down, you whore.”

 

Bulma gasps before baring her teeth at her wicked fiancé.  If  _ she _ had a gun right now, she’d be shooting that man in the foot.  She has nothing but her concealed pocket knife, which does her no good in this situation.  The pistol sits poised at her, Zarbon’s finger hovering over the trigger. Growling and wishing she had any other choice, she sinks back into her seat.  Puar let’s out a meow that sounds like a tiny roar beside her, echoing her sentiments. Murmurs fill her boat, which seem to flood into the other boats around them.

 

Zarbon raises his gun in the air.  “That goes for all of you! No one goes out there until we’re absolutely certain our life boats won’t be overwhelmed.”

 

Bulma cradles her chin heavily in her hand.  “You mean until we’re certain more people are dead.”

 

Zarbon smiles at her, flashing his teeth before he sits back in his seat.  “You should be thanking me, my dear. You  _ all _ should,” he says, raising his voice.  “My keen sense of self-preservation is likely to save all of you from making a stupid mistake.”

 

Bulma shakes her head and lowers it between her hands.  She needs to cover her ears to drown out the background screams she can bear no longer.  They echo across the water. Even through her tight palms cupped around her ears,  _ they echo _ .  The dying refuse to go unheard.

 

It isn’t until what feels like a tortuous hour has passed that Bulma realizes the screams have died down.  She uncovers her ears and perks up, casting her gaze across the dark horizon. She doesn’t see waves of movement or hear any splashes.  The whites of hundreds of life vests bob in the water, too still for her comfort. She sits up with a gasp.

 

Glaring, Bulma sets her eyes on Zarbon.  “We’re going now. There’s no reason not to.  The rescue ship still won’t be here for awhile and at least if we can go now, we can save  _ somebody _ .”

 

Zarbon slowly turns her way, his eyes looking tired as he waves his pistol lazily in her direction.  “Fine. Suit yourself. But my boat isn’t moving.”

 

“ _ I’ll _ go then,” Bulma says, shooting to her feet and rousing the crewman at the oars with a rough shake.  “You ready?”

 

The crewman sputters.  “Y-you should gather in a lifeboat with the other women, Miss.  This rescue job should be left to the men. It’s not ri-“

 

“You mean the men like  _ him _ ?” she says, pointing to Zarbon.  “I don’t see anyone else suggesting we go back.  If we left it up to the men, we wouldn’t be rescuing anyone.  You bet your ass I’m staying on this boat, Sir.”

 

“Hey, wait!”  It’s that same woman’s voice from earlier.  When Bulma turns, the woman is at the oars, steering her boat Bulma’s way.  “Tie these boats together, people. Let’s make as much room as possible in the rescuing boat.”

 

Bulma smiles.  “Great idea!”

 

They situate the boats, evacuating most of the people sharing the boat with Bulma, letting the woman who introduces herself as Launch onto the boat at her insistence, and acquiring a couple more crewmen so they’ll have strong men to lift survivors out of the water.  By the time they’re situated, the silence from the region of the Shenron’s sinking has grown eerie. Bulma’s stomach twists in knots as they begin to move. She worries it’s too late.

 

The volunteer crewmen gaze at her with the same stark fear in their eyes she feels.  She looks out on the stillness and feels a chill crawl up her spine at realizing there  _ will _ be bodies floating in some of those life vests.  She’s freezing after the time passed out here, and  _ she’s _ been sitting safely in a lifeboat.  She can’t imagine how awful these past minutes, hours, however long they’ve been out here, has been for  _ them _ .

 

“You have someone you care about out there,” Launch says, her raspy voice breaking the silence, “don’t you?”

 

Bulma turns her eyes on the somber blonde and nods.  She doesn’t need to ask, because she can tell, but she does it for the sake of keeping the conversation flowing.  Anything to ease and distract her from her anticipation on this fateful ride.

 

“You?” she says.

 

Launch grunts her assent.  “I shoulda been out there with him.  He forced me to get on this boat.”

 

Bulma laughs wryly.  “Me, too.” She eyes Launch.  “Do you think…”

 

Launch raises a brow and a wry smile forms on her face.  “He’s still alive? I wish, but no.”

 

Bulma gasps.  “No?”

 

Launch shakes her head and lowers her eyes.  “Tien was the self-sacrificing type. I’m sure he did everything he could to save others as long as possible.  The jerk wouldn’t even try to save himself. That’s just how he was.”

 

_ Was _ .  That word strikes Bulma with a fear that grips at her throat and makes her stomach churn.  She isn’t prepared to discover that Vegeta  _ was _ .  She shakes her head and smiles bitterly to herself.  The Bulma who boarded this ship would’ve thought of nothing more than her own survival during this disaster.  Now, the consequence of losing  _ him _ seems worse than death.  To know love like that and lose it so immediately would be the cruelest twist fate could ever bestow on her.  She worries her bottom lip with her teeth and narrows her eyes, trying to make out the figures in the dark. The crewman shines a flashlight across the glassy water in that direction, but at this distance,the figures remain vague shadows.  She almost wishes she could jump out of this boat and find Vegeta faster. She has to wait to close the distance. The crewmen are rowing as fast as they can. 

 

Not close enough to see, but close enough to hear, she cups her hands around the sides of her mouth and makes the first call, “We’re coming for you!  Help is on the way!”

 

When the others in the boat join in with their calls of reassurances, Bulma wrings her hands into her dress hard enough to leave sharp creases in the fabric.  Her eyes are equally sharp as her heart rate accelerates.

 

They are about to save lives.


	20. The Lucky Ones

They’ve been waiting so long.  Chi-Chi’s kept her mind alert by occupying herself with planning her and Goku’s future.  It hasn’t been easy. She feels tempted to give into the cold and let herself fall asleep.  She’s turned sideways after several other positions became too uncomfortable to bear. She stares up at the starry sky, all the while telling Goku about their home and eight children and praying that somewhere up in those stars, someone is looking down on them who can help.  Goku hummed a few agreements in the beginning, but now he just listens and continues to squeeze Chi-Chi’s hand, listening, as her hoarse voice becomes a whisper. 

 

She sees a wave of light pass over her and casts her gaze back into the twinkling sky.  It doesn't set in until  _ after _ she tells Goku she won’t allow pets in their home that the passage of light was something out of the ordinary.  Her mind seems to move slowly now, like the cold has actually frozen her brain function. Her eyes narrow when she realizes everything is a blur, and some sound she hears as nothing but garbled noise.

 

She blinks rapidly, her frozen lashes batting together as she turns over. She gives her and Goku’s conjoined hands a shake as she extends her gaze beyond the bobbing figures surrounding them to a structure with tall silhouettes shining beams of light across the crowded surface.

 

“Rescue,” she whispers to Goku.  “They’re here.”

 

Her vocal cords hurt with the mere whispers.  She sounds nothing like the strong voices she hears, which now clearly ask for anyone alive out here to answer them.  Chi-Chi wants to jump and yell, “Us! Us! Save us!” but the slightest movement gives her pains. She turns her eyes to Goku, expecting to see realization now dawning on his face.  His eyes are closed. He’s fallen asleep.

 

Chi-Chi kisses his hand. “Goku, wake up.  The boats are here. They’re here.”

 

He doesn’t respond.  He doesn’t move. He doesn’t bat a lash.  He’s been chest-deep in that water for so long, it’s no wonder he’s fallen into a deep sleep.

 

She squeezes his hand and gives him another - more violent - shake.  “Goku!” Her voice is like a tinny screech. “Wake up. Wake up, we have to go.”

 

His pale face riddled with specs of ice doesn’t move.  His beautiful lips don’t pull into that smile she loves so much.  His brows don’t knit together the way they do when she confuses or concerns him.  She doesn’t hear a whisper of his charming voice.

 

“Goku,” Chi-Chi says as her neck strains and tears burn at the back of her frozen eyes.  “Goku?”

 

The tears budge to the surface now as she presses her lips together.  The calls for survivors continue, but Chi-Chi notices now they are becoming more distant.  They’re moving away from her. She can’t get Goku up. He can’t die. He can’t be dead. She has to wake him.  She has to save him.

 

She gives him another shake, rattling and splashing with the force of her hands.  “Goku! Please.”

 

She is choked by a sob.  Closing her eyes, she kisses Goku’s forehead, which is much too cold for life to be anywhere within him.  He’s gone. This accident has taken from her the most precious thing in her life. But if she doesn’t act now, it will take  _ her life _ as well.  Goku wouldn’t want that.

 

With a rattling breath, Chi-Chi pries her hands free of Goku’s, the separation feeling like moist skin peeling from frozen metal.  He is so stiff in her grasp, she doesn’t know how she failed to realize he’s died. She looks at him as if she can still see the life in his eyes, wishing she really could.

 

“I love you,” she whispers.  “I love you so much. I’ll wait for you.”

 

She lets go.

 

She doesn’t know where or how she’ll ever see him again, but she means every word of her whispered promise.  Her heart clenches as she watches the man she loved descending like a drifting soul heading into the afterlife, only traveling in the wrong direction.  She tries not to dwell on him left here to rest as she turns her eyes on the boat drifting away from her.

 

“Help,” she calls.  “Help, I’m here. I’m alive.”

 

Her voice is too constricted.  They hear nothing and continue moving away.  This will never work. They’ll never hear her and she’s going to die out here anyway.  She has to survive. She owes this much to Goku. She knows he wanted nothing more than to see her make it out of this alive.  She pulls back her fist and thumps it into the water, making the loudest splash she possibly can. When they don’t appear to hear it or respond, she tries again.  She continues, in spite of the pain caused by the shocking cold temperatures of the water she hasn’t reached into for awhile now. She tries and tries until a light shines on her face.  She squints into the blinding beam and smiles in relief when it settles on her and the voices rejoice in having found one.

 

One.

 

Chi-Chi wonders how few could’ve possibly survived this disaster.  The man in green uniform who pulls her from the water tells her she’s one of the lucky ones.  She doesn’t know about that. All she knows is, her Goku is dead.

* * *

Bulma is worried about Chi-Chi.  She’s wrapped a blanket around the girl and physically, she seems like she’ll be fine, but her emotional damage is another story.  She’s gone practically catatonic since climbing into the boat, sitting between Bulma and Launch, staring straight ahead as if seeing nothing.  Bulma can’t help smiling at her. It’s a relief to find her friend alive. Seeing the state of the rest of this graveyard they float through, it’s amazing that Chi-Chi made it.  

 

“Goku…” Chi-Chi murmurs.

 

Bulma lowers her head.  She feels pain between her eyes, an ache of sorrow she wants to ignore right now.  Goku is dead. Her friend. One of the greatest men on this ship from what she was able to tell in the short time she knew him.  He was really something special. This is part of why Bulma worries for Chi-Chi’s mental state so much, but it’s also why she refuses to give into the sorrow.  

 

She needs resolve right now.  They are still searching. Vegeta might still be alive out here.  Bulma needs to keep her wits about her and not miss a single face or noise outside of the water slapping against the boat in which they sit.

 

A choked sob breaks the silence and Bulma takes a sidelong glance at Chi-Chi.  Her friend looks devastated as tears flow down her cheeks. But that’s a good sign.  She needs to let it out. Bulma smiles sadly at her and wraps an arm around Chi-Chi’s cold shoulder, drawing her in to share some of her warmth.

 

“That’s it, Darlin’,” Launch says in a hushed voice, rubbing Chi-Chi’s back.

 

Chi-Chi’s hushed sobs continue, but past them, Bulma hears another sound.  She doesn’t dare ask Chi-Chi to be quiet, but she gasps and sits upright, releasing Chi-Chi as she turns her ear toward the sound.  It’s deep and guttural, like a groan. It sounds like it’s almost below her. She leans over the side of the boat and looks at the ghostly faces staring back at her.  The dead are white and pale, their lifeless eyes fixed on her in an accusatory way. She hates Zarbon for making them wait this long. These people didn’t all have to die.  Goku didn’t have to die. Vegeta better not be dead, or by God, she was going to kill Zarbon herself.

 

One figure among the many moves.  His head lolls on his shoulders and when the flashlight from the crewman shines across his face, Bulma gasps.  She recognizes him through the passing shadows and only hopes she isn’t mistaken, feeding herself false hope.

 

“Shine it back over there,” she tells the crewman, pointing to where she believes she saw Vegeta.  “Vegeta!”

 

It  _ is _ him.  His eyes are closed.  He’s held up only by his life vest, bundled close together with other people, which she assumes is what he had to do to survive the cold.  It was smart thinking. If he isn’t dead, it’s because that saved his life.

 

“You think this one’s alive?” the crewman asks dubiously.

 

“Vegeta!” Bulma leans over the boat, rocking it with her weight as she reaches for him.

 

His face is like ice in her hands.  He doesn’t respond to her touch or her voice.  She bites her lip and feels tears well in her eyes.

 

She shakes her head.  “No.”

 

A guttural growl seems to crawl from Vegeta’s unmoving lips.  Bulma gasps and whirls on the dubious crewman, who chokes back at her with wide eyes.  He heard it, too. Bulma didn’t imagine it. 

 

She looks back at Vegeta as she seizes him by the shoulders of his ice-crusted vest with both hands.  “Vegeta! Oh, please be alive!”

 

She tries to haul him up, but he’s like a two ton safe to her weary body.  It doesn't stop her from trying, but when a crewman pushes her aside to help, she is relieved.  She wants Vegeta out of the water as fast as possible, however it has to be done. The other crewman steps to the other side and assists the man, as they did with Chi-Chi and the one unconscious man they found earlier who lies in the back of the boat.  Vegeta is unconscious when he hits the floor boards of the lifeboat, but his groan tells Bulma he isn’t dead.

 

She falls to her knees beside him, reaching for the blanket Launch hands her way.  When she wraps it over Vegeta’s frozen shoulders, she wraps herself over him as well.  She needs to feed him all her warmth and love now. He’s so close to death. He could still die.  A tear springs from her eye as she caresses her cheek into his wet back.

 

“Please,” she cries.  “Don’t you dare die, Vegeta.  Stay alive for me. A prince can’t die this way.  You have to live.”

 

Launch grunts before addressing Chi-Chi.  “I guess that’s Bulma’s guy.”

 

Chi-Chi gives a slow nod and smiles sadly when Bulma meets her eye.  Bulma frowns as she watches Chi-Chi wipe away a tear with the back of her hand.  Bulma closes her eyes and squeezes Vegeta in her arms, not caring how cold or wet he is against her.  She knows, looking at Launch and Chi-Chi, how tremendously lucky she is to have even this. She’s relieved now, not only to have Vegeta in her arms again, but to see the strength in Chi-Chi’s eyes.  Chi-Chi will recover. Vegeta will recover. For those who are lost, they will mourn.

 

When they continue their search, they find two more survivors on the brink of death.  The victims of the Shenron’s demise huddle together on the life boat, seeking warmth and dryness in sharp contrast to the pressurized cold they’ve endured.  

 

When the fifty or so lifeboats waiting for them come into view, Bulma is struck by an alarming realization.  Her gaze turns to Vegeta, huddled in a mass of blankets, too worn out to protect himself. The other boats will want to see the survivors - the measly  _ five  _ of them who hadn’t already perished during the time of the rescued passengers’ selfish delay.  Zarbon will see Vegeta. When he knows Vegeta has been rescued, he’ll do whatever it takes to ensure the prince won’t make it to land.  She can’t let that happen. 

 

Bulma’s breathing becomes frantic as she looks around on the boat, seeking any tool or idea which might help her save Vegeta.  The others notice her change in demeanor, their tired eyes drifting to her, but not one of them speaks a word. Even Launch and the men from the Shenron’s crew are spent.  It’s been a long couple of hours. Their emotions are drained. With everyone ready to sleep and call an end to this nightmare, she doesn’t see how she can save Vegeta from Zarbon’s vendetta on his life, which will take him no more to execute than the lazy pull of a trigger.

 

“More blankets,” murmurs one of the wet passengers, shivering and wrapping himself tightly.

 

Bulma reaches for a blanket and blinks.  “That’s it!”

 

The man extends his trembling hand toward her.  “Y-yes, p-pass it, ple-please.”

 

Bulma hands over the blanket with a smile before quickly reaching for the last one.  She wraps this one around herself and sits beside Vegeta’s head. People watch her movements closely, but it’s only one person in the other boats she needs to worry about.  She grabs the blanket which sits snug around Vegeta’s neck and spreads it across his head, concealing all his black spikes between the blanket and herself. Zarbon doesn’t need to know he’s here.

 

“What are you doing, Bulma?” Chi-Chi asks, her voice more distant and hollow than it's ever sounded to Bulma.

 

Bulma pans her gaze from one inhabitant of the rescue boat to another.  Their curious gazes are fixated on her, even those of the rowers continuing their work and huffing warm puffs of air from their lungs.

 

Bulma touches Vegeta’s covered shoulder.  “This man is not safe yet. A man on those other boats wants him dead.  Please,” she says sharply over the chorus of gasps that meet her ears, “don’t let anyone know he’s here.  I’ll get him on the next ocean liner once rescue comes, but I need to keep him hidden for now.”

 

“I don’t know anythin’ about that man’s business, Miss,” the oldest rescued passenger says gruffly, “but I know we just been through hell.  Ain’t none of us deserve any more problems right now.”

 

Chi-Chi’s eyes meet Bulma, causing Bulma to tense in anticipation of the reprimand due to come.  “Are you sure, Bulma? You’re sure he’s...safe?”

 

Bulma knows Chi-Chi means safe for  _ her _ , not safe right here, right now.  She would be angered by the question, but Chi-Chi has a point.  Bulma doesn’t really know anything about the Prince of Saiyan, outside of his death warrant issued by an odious tyrant of an earl.  Given his earlier threats, she  _ should _ be wary about him.

 

She smiles down at the lump covered under blankets.  She can see that he breathes just hard enough for the blanket around him to expand and collapse with every cycle of breath.  He’s a fighter. He’ll never give up, no matter the odds. She supposes that’s  _ something _ she knows about him.  She closes her eyes and nods.  She should be wary about him, but she isn’t.  He needs her. In a way, she needs him, too.

 

“Yes, Chi-Chi,” she says.  “I’m sure.”

 

“Then,” Chi-Chi says with a tight smile, “you’ve rescue four from the water today.”  She casts a glare across the life boat. “ _ Right _ , everyone?”

 

Hums and nods of approval follow, and Bulma situates herself so she can feel Vegeta by her side and make sure he’s still breathing, while also  _ appearing _ to have nothing but a pile of blankets at her side.  She’ll have to come up with another excuse for what lies beneath it, in case anyone asks.  Blankets are a treasured commodity right now. She hopes Vegeta remains unconscious, as he likely will, because awakening too soon could lead him to the early grave he’s so daringly fought against these past hours.

 

Bulma closes her eyes and when she opens them, she sees a better sight than she can ever remember.  She cries for joy and claps her hands as lights travel across the water, shining off the massive ocean liner in the distance.  It looks much like the one they just lost, but with its own unique style. A crewman stops rowing to look through a pair of binoculars toward the ghostly lights, a tool which Bulma quickly snags from him, intent on seeing it for herself.

 

As the man objects to her stealing his possession, Bulma spies the ocean liner stretching to the horizon, disappearing in the distant shadows.  Bulma can tell by the tread of the water around its bow that it approaches them at full speed. It should reach them by the time they rejoin the rest of the survivors.  When a flash of blinding light pierces the sky, Bulma peels the lenses from her eyes. The Shenron’s final call for help sprays sparks high above, which rain down on the cluster of life boats and prompt the approaching ship to blow its air horn.  Bulma peers through the binoculars again, feeling the ship is much nearer than the last time she looked. As it turns to follow the fading flare, she sees printed on its side the logo, R.M.S. Porunga.


	21. Saved

Light breaks on the horizon as she sits here wearily.  A light mist begins to fall on the wide open deck. Chi-Chi is certain the environment reflects her current state of emotion.  It’s tranquil, but morose. Mostly, Chi-Chi feels numb. She feels like she has died and been revived, told it's time to move on with her life when everyone else is left behind.

 

The Porunga doesn’t seem much different from how the Shenron was, at least not based off the cursory glance she gives to her surroundings.  People loiter all over the decks, looking as lost as she feels. The Porunga is filled to capacity, with no cabins to spare except for those put aside for the survivors in the worst condition.  Chi-Chi has a blanket wrapped over her head, protecting her from the mist, though she doesn’t know why she bothers. The mist is a clawless, batting kitten paw compared to the lion attack she’s just suffered.

 

Bulma left Chi-Chi here alone while she’s putting that man in one of the cabins to have a doctor see to him.  Being alone now, Chi-Chi doesn’t know what to do. She exchanges the occasional glance with other survivors across the way.  Every time their eyes meet, she’s left wondering which of them has suffered the greater loss. She’s lost the two most important men in her life in one day.  And so many friends. The people from the steerage party. The older ladies and gentlemen her father befriended in the dining hall. The crew and stewards who assisted Chi-Chi up and down elevators and directed her whenever she lost her way around the massive ship.

 

Chi-Chi’s throat tightens.  

 

She wills away the constriction, determined to shed no more tears.  Goku wouldn’t want her to cry for him. Men from the crew, dressed in vibrant green uniforms with gold tags pinned to their chests, make their rounds to the survivors, holding clipboards and jotting things down.  When one comes to her, Chi-Chi feels his amiable presence without needing to look up.

 

“Sorry for your tragedy, Miss,” he says.

 

Chi-Chi barely hears his sympathies.

 

“Miss?  My name’s Nail.  Can you tell me your name, please?”

 

Chi-Chi looks up sharply.  “Name?”

 

He raises his brows and his clipboard.  “For the registry. All incoming to America need to be documented, and since the Shenron’s doc-“

 

“Son,” Chi-Chi says, looking up into his warm green eyes. “Chi-Chi Son.”

 

The name rolls off her tongue as naturally as if it had been hers all her life.  It feels so right. She  _ is _ Goku’s wife.  She will remain Goku’s wife in her heart for the rest of her life.  

 

“Chi-Chi Son,” Nail says as he scribbles on the clipboard.  “Welcome aboard the Porunga.”

 

He casts her a brief smile before turning to the next survivor staring wistlessly toward the dull sunrise.  Chi-Chi rises to her feet, the blanket wrapped around her draping down her body along the skirts of her dress as she glides toward the rail.  She grabs the cold iron and looks over the edge. The water is lighter now, cresting against the sides of the ship. She once thought of that body of water as harmless.  She’s almost tempted to jump into it now. 

 

Goku is down there.  

 

She restrains herself, reminding herself again that Goku wouldn’t want that.  Her father wouldn’t want that. She has to be strong and carry on with her life now, for both the men she lost.  

 

* * *

 

When Vegeta opens his eyes, his new surroundings take his breath away.  It takes him a minute to reel in the shock as he recalls frigid water and screaming, yet he’s now in a warm, quiet bed.  As his memory pieces everything together, he is struck with terror of what may have happened. He can’t be on the Shenron.  He’ll never go through that again!

 

He sits up, taking in the architectural features and fine decor.  He’s in a state room, he realizes. He finds on the chaise at the foot of the bed, a set of gentleman’s clothes laid out for him.  He is alone in this room, but he knows someone’s put him here. His memory conjures the screams and struggle to stay alive, but somewhere past all that, he catches glimpses of a life boat.  Other people. A warm smile. He shakes his head and lunges for the end of the bed, reaching for the clothing. There’s only one way to find out what happened. He needs to get dressed and head out to the deck.

 

On the deck, Vegeta is first greeted by the sight of a huddled mass of people crying. A woman skirts past him, panting and calling a name as her eyes scan every face in the crowd, including his.  The sun is up, its rays shimmering on the moistened wood deck at his feet. Something yanks him back inside. 

 

“Vegeta!” Bulma’s voice comes as a harsh whisper when he pulls his fist back, ready to deck the person daring to put their hands on him.

 

“Bulma?” Vegeta says as his eyes light on her beautiful face, her blue eyes wide with concern and trained on his clenched fist.  He presses it to his side. “What do you think you’re doing?”

 

She presses her hands to her hips and huffs.  “Saving your ass. Again.”

 

“Again?” Vegeta sneers as he says it, but his eyes widen the second he stops speaking.

 

The embrace after the nightmare.  Her warmth. Her eyes. Her smile.  It  _ was _ her.  Bulma pulled him from the water.  But she thinks by pulling him in here, she’s saving him again right now.

 

He narrows his eyes at her.  “What do you mean ‘again’?”

 

“You need to lay low until we’re off this ship, Vegeta.”  Bulma glances over each shoulder as if fearing someone’ll overhear what she’s saying.  “Zarbon is here.”

 

“Zarbon?” Vegeta’s eyes bulge as a grunt is pulled from his throat.  “That bastard’s still alive?”

 

Bulma crosses her arms, scowling.  “Creep boarded a life boat.”

 

Vegeta growls and turns for the door, but Bulma presses both hands on Vegeta’s shoulders and pins him against the wall.  He wants to find that asshole right now and finish the job the sinking ship failed to do. Of all the people dead on that ship, Zarbon should be one of them.  Bulma can’t hold him here. Her grasp is insistent, but weak. When he looks into her eyes,  _ those _ speak of a far greater inner strength.  When he meets her eyes, he hesitates.

 

“He thinks you’re already dead, Vegeta,” she says with a slow nod, reading his eyes.  “Let him continue to think it.”

 

“He tried to  _ kill _ me!”

 

“He has a rendezvous with Lord Frieza at the port.”

 

Vegeta’s jaw drops, his tongue tied until he blinks away his shock.  “F-Frieza? He’s...in America?”

 

Bulma nods and rubs his shoulders.  “Apparently, he’s planned to travel all this way for  _ you _ .”

 

Vegeta bares his teeth, sneering at the window through which he can see the people crying over their trauma.  “He won’t stop until he has rule over my country. He’s taken everything.”

 

Bulma heaves a sigh, her hands tightening around Vegeta’s biceps.  “He has. But he’ll take more if you give him the chance.”

 

Vegeta gasps, overwhelmed by the heartfelt plea he can hear in Bulma’s voice and feel in her touch.  

 

“Please, Vegeta,” she says, raising her soft fingers to his cheek, “let them think you’re dead.  If they think you’ve gone down with the Shenron, they won’t-”

 

“It’s the perfect opportunity,” Vegeta says slowly, his eyes glazing over with the potential solution to his problem and all of its cruel downfalls, “Frieza won’t pursue me anymore.  But he’ll do what he wants with my kingdom.”

 

“Based on what I was reading in the papers while sitting by your bedside,” Bulma says solemnly, “he’s already taken the kingdom.  Saiyan is no longer controlled by the Saiyan people. I’m sorry, Vegeta.”

 

Vegeta’s throat tightens.  Something burns at the backs of his eyes, which he covers by raising his chin and gritting his teeth.  If those people of his were so pathetic they couldn't fight for themselves, he has no business destroying himself for them.  If he reveals his identity, he’ll return home only to be the prince of nothing. With his country eviscerated and his family murdered, he has nothing.  He has no one. He meets Bulma’s gaze, incredibly finding a sadness in her blue eyes which seems to match his.

 

“Why?” he asks her.

 

He’s not only asking why she’s sorry.  He’s asking why she’s providing him with a way out, why she stayed by his bedside while he recovered from the brink of death, why she saved him from the water, why she kissed him when she thought it might all be over.  Why him?

 

Bulma only smiles at him, whatever answers she has remaining unspoken when the door by Vegeta’s side bursts open.  It hits the wall as a teenaged boy comes through sporting the uniform donned by the crew of the Porunga. His shining gold name tag is labeled “Cargo” and as his eyes light on Bulma and Vegeta in this relatively private hall, a shade of red blossoms on his cheeks.

 

“E-excuse me,” Cargo says, dropping his gaze to the floor.

 

“It’s alright,” Bulma says jovially, narrowing her eyes at Vegeta when he’s just about to blast at the kid for the interruption.

 

“Are - are you feeling better, Mister?” Cargo asks.

 

“Cargo was one of your attendants when I brought you in,” Bulma says with a wink.  “He really was a lot of help.”

 

Vegeta clears his sore throat, feeling both the need to express appreciation and a strong distaste against speaking words that even resemble it.  “I’m  _ fine _ ,” he hisses instead.

 

“Oh, good,” Cargo says with a smile as he pulls out a clipboard.  “Then you two wouldn’t mind telling me your names...for our records?”

 

“Right,” Bulma says, shooting Vegeta a glance.  “The records. Bulma. Bulma Briefs.”

 

Cargo scrawls his pen across the clipboard.  “Thank you, Miss Briefs. And you?”

 

“Actually,” Vegeta says, eyeing Bulma as he does something he’s never done before - swallow his pride.  “That’s  _ Mrs. _ Briefs.  Can’t you see this woman is my wife?”

 

As Bulma gasps, the smile she sends him tells Vegeta she doesn’t mind his presumption at all.  Her cheeks flush as her smile widens from ear to ear, her blue eyes shimmering. She looks like she’s about to burst before her arms wrap around him.  Vegeta stiffens in her grasp.

 

“Of course,” Cargo says, “please forgive me.  And your first name, Sir?”

 

“Vegeta,” Vegeta says, scowling down at the top of Bulma’s blue head of hair.

 

“Vegeta and Bulma Briefs.” Cargo huffs as he tucks his pen in his lapel and eyes them both.  “You two are extremely lucky. I think you’re the first couple I’ve seen who’ve survived this tragedy together.”

 

“Yes,” Vegeta says with a raise of his chin.  “That’s because not everyone is equally resourceful-”   
  


A sharp pain causes him to clench his teeth and groan as Bulma twists her heel into the top of his foot.  “We lost a lot of close friends,” Bulma says gravely. “They were all very brave.”

 

“I’m sure they were,” Cargo says, bowing his head.  “My condolences.”

 

Vegeta lets the boy walk away without saying another word to him.  He casts Bulma a glare for that stomp, but he lets it go. She’s mourning her friends.  If he has to be honest, he knows many others died bravely during the night. Goku, in particular, he owed his life to on more than one occasion.  He would expect that man to live, and yet by Bulma’s tone...maybe not.

 

He raises a brow at Bulma.  “A lot of close friends?”

 

Bulma meets his gaze and gulps.  Her eyes well again, the tears this time pouring over onto her cheeks.  Vegeta feels a stab to his heart, sharper than the cold that pierced his body through the night.  As he thinks back on his days on the ship, he begins to realize just how many died. The Shenron’s downfall caused an incredible loss.  

 

He really is lucky to be alive.  He is incredibly lucky to have Bulma with him.  He loses his kingdom and his people to Frieza, but in comparison to what others have lost today, it is a small price to pay.  He’ll never contact Raditz or anyone else back home again, so Frieza will never know of his survival. Vegeta, Prince of Saiyan, died along with Nappa, Dodoria, and the Ship of Dreams.  

 

The Vegeta who loves Bulma can still live on.

* * *

 

She’s alive now, sitting at a table which overlooks the detestable ocean, witnessing the brittle suffering of the people left behind by the Shenron.  It isn’t right. So many people dead. Tien. When Launch closes her eyes, she can still hear the screams drifting across the water. She curls her fingers around the bottle at her side, wrings her fingers into the soft blanket secured around her shoulders, and presses the bottle to her lips.  The whiskey burns going down. The subtle pain settling in her stomach is a relief. The dizziness and numbness prompted by this second bottle is exactly what she wants to feel.

  
“Here’s to you, Tien,” Launch says, lifting the bottle to no one.  She shakes her head. “No, no. That last one was to you, wasn’t it?  This one’s to Chiaotzu. And Yamcha. And Goku. Shit.”

 

“None of them made it?” the question spoken by a hoarse voice sounds more like a statement, prompting Launch to peer over her bottle at the old woman sitting on a bench, staring at her.

 

The old woman slowly shakes her head.  “I owe my life to that boy and his friends,” she says.  “I saw you there, you know.” 

 

The old lady levels Launch with a look as realization sinks in for Launch.  She recognizes this woman from the lifeboat. She tries to recall where Tien saved someone’s life.  It feels like it was ages ago, not hours. Launch isn’t surprised to hear this woman claiming he saved her.  He saved many lives, but no one but Chiaotzu, Yamcha and Launch could know just how many. 

 

“By the gate in steerage,” the old lady prompts, nodding.  “If all of you didn’t break through, I’d be trapped beneath the ocean with that overhyped piece of construction instead of sitting here.  I’m sorry...about your loss.” The old woman sighs. “Old Lady Baba can see the future, but even  _ I _ miss a few things.”

 

Launch takes another swig of whiskey before scoffing loudly, and what she hopes is obnoxiously.  “Ain’t no such thing as seein’ the future.” She thumps the bottle down on the table and crosses her arms.  “Ain’t no such thing as lots of things. If you could see the future, you wouldn’t have been on that ship.”

 

“I didn’t see the ship going down,” Baba says.  “I saw it making it to America. I saw happy couples and cheering children debarking from the ocean liner in waves.  Hundreds of people happy and healthy. Not this.”

 

“No,” Launch says with a snort, “because you’re a hack.”

 

“It could’ve happened, you know,” the old self-proclaimed fortune teller says.  “It could’ve been our future. You could be with your Tien.  __ could be...not doubting my abilities and being reprimanded by a drunk.”

 

Launch presses her lips into a hard line.  She rubs them together as she stares at the disconsolate face of the old woman.  The old woman couldn’t have done anything for Launch anyway. If she  _ had _ known the future of the Shenron and warned people about the iceberg, they would’ve scoffed at her.  Launch knows  _ she _ would never listen to such bullshit.  From the moment she spied Tien applying for a job in the Shenron’s engineering room with his little friend, she knew she would board this ship, no matter what.  In the end, she can’t say she regrets it. Maybe it’s just the alcohol talking, but if she hadn’t embarked on the Shenron’s maiden voyage, she never would’ve met Tien.  She would’ve missed her chance. She wouldn’t have fallen in love.

 

“You know,” Launch says lazily, grabbing her bottle by the neck and swinging it in front of her, “maybe the Shenron really  _ was  _ the Ship of Dreams.”

 

Baba scoffs, studies Launch, then barks a laugh.  “Sure! And people think  _ I’m _ crazy,” she says as she slides until her feet touches the floor and turns her back on Launch.

 

“Hey!” Launch yells after her.

 

Baba turns around.  “What?”

 

“Thanks for telling me that stuff...about Tien,” Launch says with a small smile.

 

Baba smiles, her gaze softening as her tired eyes meet Launch’s.  The feeling that comes with surviving that tragedy is one which can’t be explained.  There is deep gratitude tightly entwined with a deep pain for those who are lost. There is a feeling of responsibility, and maybe it’s too deep for Launch to take in quite yet, the reason she needs to numb herself with liquor.  She has a responsibility to Tien to carry on for him and live the life he would’ve wanted her to live. They all have a responsibility to the people who saved them - to accomplish their dreams.


	22. Dreams

They’re dressed all in black.  Winter wind licks at her cheeks and her exposed feet touching the sand.  Pan Son quivers as she surveys the somber group of friends and family circling around her.  Tears spring to her eyes, but she holds them in to burn instead of letting them fall. She finds the burn soothes her pain. Her grandmother is really gone.  She’s the last survivor of the Shenron disaster from over eighty years ago. Many unfamiliar faces are gathered in the distance, watching her, here to honor the memory of the people who died in that tragedy.  Pan finds herself racked by a sob, unable to catch it. As Pan swallows it down, a warm arm wraps around her shoulder.

 

“Go on, Pan,” Trunks says in her ear.  “You can do this.”

 

“I know,” Pan says, her voice strained.  “I just wish I had more time to say goodbye.”

 

“It wasn’t easy when our parents passed last year either,” Bulla says sadly.  “We’re here for you, though.”

 

“Dad,” Pan says, reaching out to the man standing across from her holding a wooden box.  “Is this really what Grandma wanted?”

 

Her father nods as Pan spies her mother’s hand squeezing her father’s fingers in silent, solemn support.  “She never stopped talking about my father,” Gohan says. “She wanted to be reunited with him in the place where he died.”

 

Pan feels a vice crushing her throat, worse than the burning, unshed tears.  “She really thinks by scattering her ashes in the Atlantic, she can be with him again?”

 

“Yes,” her father says, extending the box toward Pan.

 

Pan takes the box reluctantly.  She cradles it in her arm, knowing it’s all that remains of her beloved grandmother.  Chi-Chi Son was fiery and spirited in life, and hopefully will remain the same in death, if there is such a thing as life after death.  Pan knows she inherited her fiery spirit from her grandmother, though she never truly knew what she inherited from her grandfather, the man who died saving her grandmother’s - and father’s - life that day the Shenron sank.  She would’ve liked to know him. She would’ve liked to know her grandmother longer. She takes a deep breath as she bends toward the icy tide nipping at her bare toes. If anyone is going to do this, Pan wants to be the one to do it. She kisses the box, closing her eyes and shedding a solitary tear before she flips the latch open and pulls back the lid.

 

“Goodbye, Grandma,” she whispers.

 

The ashes fly out in a gust of wind which sweeps the remains into the rolling waves, as if the Atlantic summons for them.  Pan wraps her arms around herself as she watches the cloud of gray ash disappear. All is silent as they stand, staring into the deep blue Atlantic.  She hopes her grandmother was right. Pan wants her grandmother to be reunited with the man she loved so much that she was never able to move on from him.  She wants her grandmother to see her friends again, and be in the place that captured the happiest memories of her life.

* * *

  

She wakes from a deep sleep.  She’s standing in the first class dining room in its former splendor.  The wooden banister shines beneath the shimmering chandelier. The orange, starry centerpiece glows exactly as she remembers it.  

 

Chi-Chi reaches her hands out in front of her, turning them over.  Her palms are free of the wrinkles which formed on them over the years, the back of her hands clear and void of the age spots she wore in her final years, a shimmering bracelet draped across her dainty wrist.  She’s younger. She can feel it, too. She can breathe easier, stand straighter. Her eye trails the bannister suddenly surrounded by people wearing smiles. She sees Krillin and Lazuli, wrapping their arms around each other’s waists at her side.  Bulma and Vegeta, the two who shared her memories all these years of people they lost, are young again also, nodding to her as if to welcome her to join them. Further up the stairs, Mr. Dende claps his hands softly together. Mr. Popo and Captain Piccolo flank his shoulders, giving Chi-Chi warm grins.  Something gray sweeps across the center of the stair and Yamcha kneels down to scoop Puar into his arms. As he strokes the cat’s shiny coat, Chi-Chi’s eye trails further up the stairs.

 

She sees all of them here.

 

Lapis, Tien and Chiaotzu, Launch, her father.  Chi-Chi’s breath hitches when she shifts her gaze past him to the man standing between her father and the grand centerpiece of the Shenron.  It’s the face she’s painstakingly embedded in her mind, keeping him alive in the only place he still existed until now - her memories. His smile is bright and warm and magnetic.  Chi-Chi steps up the stairs with a strong desire to touch Goku again. She hurries up the next few steps, every soul she passes along the way seemingly urging her on. She keeps her gaze fixed on Goku’s dark eyes which are locked on her.  Goku extends his hand. As Chi-Chi takes it, a wave of white light seems to engulf the grand ballroom. There’s a muddled applause before classical music fills the grand room, as if everything is swarming around her and disappearing at the same time.  All that remains is a feeling - an intense feeling of warmth and happiness.

 

They are all as they should be, as if their time remaining on this ship is a perfect dream that will never end.  On the Shenron, they’re together in the place they were happiest, reunited with the ones they loved the most.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I really appreciated all of your reviews and I’m sorry for killing so many characters, but you can’t say I didn’t warn you. There was just no believable way for many of them to survive. Hopefully this made up for it in the end.

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoy my writing, check my site for original stories at https://www.crystalmasiello.com
> 
> twitter: @maiikawriter  
> tumblr: @maiikawriter


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